


Love is Never Blind

by Calysta18



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:10:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9584897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calysta18/pseuds/Calysta18
Summary: Love is the only game that is not called on account of darkness!!





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am posting this here, as I understand that the Sam and Dean Archive is now closed. It is one of my older stories, but hope you enjoy anyway!

**Sam**

 

"You did what?" Sam snarled turning on his father angrily. He started to pace up and down the hospital room. Sam stopped his pacing and looked towards his father glaring. Before John Winchester could move away from his younger son Sam stepped into his space pushing him up against the wall. "Tell me you didn't send him away," Sam hissed.

"I did what I thought was best," John replied calmly. He pushed at Sam's chest side-stepping before his younger son could push him closer to the wall. "Dean will get the help he needs. The Rehabilitation Centre will sort out his meds and help him cope with.....," John waved his hand in the air suddenly lost for words. "And he can live there for as long as he wants. I made sure of that."

"With what?" Sam barked. "You can't even say it." Sam accused as he started to pace up and down again ignoring his father lost in his anger. Sam could feel his rage burning inside him threatening to consume him with its fury. He clenched and unclenched his fists trying to control himself as he paced. But he couldn't believe it. His father had made Dean leave. Persuaded him to leave when Sam was asleep. Hadn't even given Sam a chance to see or speak to Dean. And Sam hated his father for that.

John looked away guiltily. Sam's accusation hurt but deep down he knew that it was true. He couldn't voice the words. His elder son was hurt and he couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud. John looked at his pacing younger son. "It's for the best," he said smoothly.

Sam snorted. He turned to scowl at his father. "You and I both know that Dean won't be at the Rehabilitation Centre," Sam said narrowing his eyes.

"I made sure he got on the bus myself," John answered although, like Sam, he knew that Dean would get off the bus at the first opportunity and probably had no intention of ever going to the Centre. John felt a stab of guilt at his actions knowing that he had been purposely cruel to Dean and was responsible for encouraging and convincing his elder son to leave. John pushed the guilt down and looked towards his other son.

Sam snorted again. "And Dean will get off the bus and .... and disappear. You know that. I know that."

"I was assured by the doctors that he would get there safely," John replied knowing that he was trying to convince himself. His feelings of guilt came back threatening to overwhelm him. He had taken Dean to the bus knowing full well that his eldest son would disappear. "There were a few other people on the bus going to the Centre. As well as some nurses," John continued.

"He's not a damn parcel," Sam snapped.

"I know that," John retorted suddenly angry with his son. "The doctors speak highly of this Rehab Centre. And they said it would be good for Dean. He'll be looked after..,"

"We could have looked after him," Sam interrupted. "We should be looking after him," he enunciated each word to make sure his father understood. "Not some strangers in a glorified care home. We're his family. Or have you forgotten that."

"No I haven't forgotten but our way of life is difficult," John reasoned. "It wouldn't be easy with me on the road all the time and you back at college."

"College," Sam said confused staring at his father. "I'm not going back to college. And you..... we killed the demon. It's over."

"I thought," John started say.

"You thought what?" Sam interrupted his voice low with a hint of danger. "I can't believe you thought I would just leave Dean and go back to college. And you.... you don't have to hunt anymore."

"Sam," John said. "Not everything supernatural died with the yellow eyed bastard. There are still people out there that need my help."

"And so does Dean," Sam yelled. "He needs us. And you just let him leave. I don't care what you do. Go chase your demons. I don't give a damn. But I'm going to find Dean."

"Sammy," John started to protest.

"You don't get to call me that ever again," Sam shouted stepping close to his father again.

"Now you're acting like a child," John said calmly. He could feel his temper rising and bit the inside of his mouth in an effort to control it. John didn't want to fight with Sam. They had spent so many years fighting and shouting at each other and John was suddenly tired of it.

It was obvious that Sam had other ideas as he pushed his father up against the wall. "How does it feel knowing that your obsession with killing the demon blinded your son?" Sam snarled angrily. "The demon's thugs beat and kicked him unconscious." Sam leaned in closer. John flinched slightly. "They kicked him in the head over and over as punishment because you are," he poked his father in the chest. "A stubborn bastard who doesn't give a damn about anything or anyone except revenge."

John recoiled at the words. "Mind your mouth," John yelled back his anger suddenly getting the better of him.

"You drugged me," Sam accused his father tears springing to his eyes. "I wasn't there to help Dean. Like he's always been there for me," he swiped at his tears. "You took that away from me. From Dean," Sam sniffed. "I should have been watching his back."

"I was protecting you," John protested.

"What about Dean?" Sam yelled. "Were you protecting him? Dean's blind and it's your fault." John's temper got the best of him. He raised his hand slapping Sam hard across the face. The sound of skin against skin seemed to echo around the room. Both John and Sam stared at each other in shock. John took a step forward but Sam moved backwards shrugging away from his father's hand. He held his hand held up against his face rubbing at the tingling skin where his father had slapped him. "You didn't even let him say goodbye," Sam whispered.

John desperately wanted to take his younger son in his arms but he knew that it wouldn't be welcomed. Not only had he hurt Dean he had hurt Sam too. "It's what Dean wanted," John said deciding that it would be easier to stick with a lie. He dug in his pocket. "He wanted you to have the Impala," John dangled Dean's keys from his hand.

Sam moved forwards holding his palm upwards. John dropped the keys into his hand and Sam closed his fingers one by one around the keys. Tears stung at his eyes as he felt the cold metal of the keys in his hand. He looked up at his father. "I don't believe it's what Dean wanted," Sam said quietly. "I know him better than you ever could. I love him more than you ever have. And he wouldn't just run off and leave without saying goodbye."

John couldn't help the old jealousy surfacing a little. He had always been envious of his sons' close bond. "I'm just telling you how it is son," he said. "It was Dean's decision to leave. He thought it was better for all of us," John absently kicked at the floor not able to look up at his youngest son. It was a lie and he knew it. Dean had been surprisingly difficult to persuade and he knew he had hurt his eldest son deeply with his actions and words.

John had always known that the bond between Dean and Sam was strong and suspected that left to their own devices his sons would take their close relationship to the next level and that was something John couldn't condone and wouldn't allow. So he had played on their weaknesses to separate them - Sam's need for a proper life and a college education and Dean's need to always please and obey him. But he had severely under-estimated how strong their devotion to each other had been. He had hurt his sons and it was something that he was never going to be able to take back, but John honestly believed that he had done the right thing in persuading Dean to leave. Dean would be looked after and Sam could return to college. Both his sons could move on with their lives.

Sam studied his father for a moment knowing, deep down, that John was lying to him. He could feel his anger bubbling inside him. "I hate you," Sam spat. He bunched his hand into a fist. Before his father could react Sam punched him hard in the face. John staggered slightly but remained upright. He stared at his younger son shocked as his hand reached up to stem the blood pouring from his nose. "And I will never forgive you for this," Sam turned away from his father. "And don't follow us. We don't need you," he yelled as he slammed out of the room and ran down the corridor blindly. He could hear his father calling his name but his shouts only made Sam run faster and faster until he burst out of the doors into the parking lot.

Slowing his pace and breathing heavily Sam found the Impala easily. He slumped in the driver's seat still breathing hard. The engine roared into life as Sam turned the ignition. Sam could see his father jogging towards him. He put his foot down hard on the gas pedal the wheels spinning slightly as he raced out of the parking lot away from his father.

Two hours later Sam pulled into a roadside diner parking carefully. He slumped back against the seat. His anger at his father had slowly subsided and he took deep breaths willing himself to keep calm. Sam let his mind wander and immediately his thoughts turned to Dean and his stomach lurched at the thought of his brother out there somewhere blind and alone. He could feel his anger rising again and he pushed it down. Sam ran his hand absently along the dashboard and the front seat. The car had been their home for over two years. They had argued, laughed, cried and even slept in the Impala. Sam could almost feel Dean in the car, smell his uniqueness which seemed to be bonded with the leather of the seat. Everything about the Impala shouted Dean and it made Sam feel lonely and lost.

Sam loved Dean and not as a brother. He had always loved Dean but was too frightened to tell his brother how he felt in case Dean was disgusted and rejected him. However, over the last six months Sam had felt a subtle change in their relationship. And he knew that Dean had felt the change too. They had been dancing around each other as if they both sensed that their connection had changed into something romantic and possibly sexual. Sam had been about to challenge Dean when their father had called telling them that he had closed in on the demon. A week later, Dean was in the hospital fighting for his life in the ICU. When he woke up two weeks later he was blind and suffering from severe headaches and seizures caused by the brutal attack at the hands of the demon and its thugs. Sam just couldn't bring himself to burden his brother with his feelings of love when Dean had so much more to cope with.

Sam slammed his fists against the steering wheel over and over until he slumped forwards his head resting on the top of the steering wheel. Sam let his tears come, letting them flow freely down his face. He had never felt so lost and alone in his life. "Dean," Sam breathed.

 

 

**Dean**

 

Dean leaned his head up against the window frame turning his head slightly so he could feel the warmth of the sun on his face. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to imagine what the blue sky looked like. Dean hated to admit it but he was terrified that he would forget what things looked like, the things he used to take for granted. He didn't really know why he was standing staring out the window of the motel room. He couldn't see anything just the never-ending nothingness that was his life now. The demon had condemned him to a life of darkness but his father had done much worse. John Winchester, the man he worshipped, had condemned him to a life of loneliness. His father, his hero, had hurt him so deeply that Dean didn't think he would ever forgive the man for his cruel words and actions. He rubbed absently at this belly trying to ease the ache he felt inside.

Dean still couldn't believe it. Had played the conversation over and over in his head over the last two days. But it was always the same. His father didn't want him and had wanted him to go and live at a Rehabilitation Centre that his doctors had recommended. Dean didn't want to go. He wanted to stay with his family. Needed to be near them. Near Sam. But his father had other ideas. He hadn't voiced the words out loud but Dean knew that his father thought he was no use to him any more in the hunt. A blind man would slow his family down, stop his father hunting and hold Sam back from returning to college and his normal life. He was just a useless liability that needed someone else to look after him.

Dean had pleaded with his father to be allowed to stay, had even promised that he would be no trouble but John had been resolute accusing Dean of being selfish as well as being reckless with his health telling him that going to the Rehabilitation Centre was for his own good. He promised that he and Sam would visit as soon as he was settled, but Dean had heard the lie in his father's tone. Dean had flinched at the cruel words and decided there and then that he would never go to the Rehab Centre, that he would run away and disappear. It was what his father really wanted. Him out of their life. He had bit his lip in an effort to stop the tears as his father even refused to let him say goodbye to Sam. That hurt the most. And then his father had almost dragged him out to the waiting bus. Tired Dean had stumbled along his body still sore from the numerous injuries suffered at the hands of the demons and the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. He had tried one last time to persuade his father but his stupid brain hadn't co-operated and he had cringed inwardly as he heard himself stuttering and stammering unrecognisable words at his father. Dean had heard his father sigh in obvious annoyance so he had given up. His father had then handed him his rucksack, pressed a wad of money into his hand and helped him onto the bus. Dean had pressed his face against the window knowing that if he had his sight his father wouldn't be there. That had been two days ago, two of the longest and loneliest days of Dean's life.

He had sneaked off the bus and away from the hospital staff at one of the rest stops. Nobody had missed him and he had hailed a cab asking to be dropped off at the nearest bus station. Dean took the first bus not knowing or caring where he was going. Getting off the bus Dean had then spent half a day changing buses and cabs until he had found himself at a motel at the edge of a small town. The last cab driver had been kind and had helped him sort the money into different denominations, had found him the motel and even helped him get a room. Dean had given him a big tip as a thank you. Dean would never admit it to anyone but he had been terrified for the whole 48 hours but he had done it. Alone, blind and with only a little help from complete strangers but he had freed his family from looking after the burden of a blind man. He was alone but decided that being alone was better than living in a care home with strangers he didn't know or want to know.

With a sigh Dean turned away from the window. He didn't use the stick he had been given at the hospital. Dean thought the stick just drew attention to his disability and he hated it only using it when he had to. Arm outstretched in front of him he felt his way towards where he knew the bed was. He knew he wouldn't trip or stumble. He'd done that yesterday as he memorised the layout of the room when he had arrived. His hunter instincts honed over many years were aiding him in the darkness and he was somehow able to sense when something or someone was close. His other senses were heightened too. His hearing had always been good but now it was exceptional so much so that his head ached with the deafening noise of everyday life. Dean knew that his body was only compensating for what he had lost but it scared and unsettled him. He didn't want to get used to being blind and he felt trapped and alone in his seemingly endless dark world.

Once at the bed Dean slumped down and put his head in his hands. He massaged at his temple trying to rid himself of the nagging headache. His father's hurtful words echoed in his mind making his head pound even more. The headaches and the stuttering when he was tired were other side effects of the beating and Dean could just about handle them although the stuttering made him feel stupid, but the seizures he had to admit were terrifying. They left him feeling totally out of the control and Dean needed to feel that he had some sort of command over his crappy life. He had medication for both but the pills at the moment didn't always stop the onset of a seizure. Dean vaguely remembered his doctor telling him that the Rehab Centre would sort out his medication when he arrived. Dean made a mental note to find a clinic that could help him out with a prescription.

Dean had been lucky the night before. His doctor had also told him he would likely get a warning sign of an impending fit. Tingling fingers had warned him but it didn't stop him dropping to his knees. He had tried to fight but the seizure was stronger. Dean remembered cursing his stupid brain before his head struck the bedside table and he collapsed against one of the beds. He also vaguely remembered his whole body shaking uncontrollably knowing instinctively that it was a minor fit and then he had felt nothing. He had woken up a few hours later still on the floor but luckily propped up by one of the beds with another bruise on his face where he had hit the bedside table as he fell. Dean shook his head trying to dispel the image of him dying alone, out of control, on his back, biting his tongue and choking as a seizure possessed him. Dean snorted deciding that he would rather be possessed by a demon than a seizure.

This was all the demon's fault. Dean screwed up his eyes in a bid to try and remember what had happened during the final battle. But his mind was just blank and his father refused to fill in the blanks. He had asked Sam but his brother said he didn't know either having been drugged by his father but Dean had a suspicion that his stubborn brother had forced his equally stubborn father to tell him everything. Dean had no memory of the final battle or the attack that had blinded him. He was sure that fragments in full technicolour came back during his nightmares but when he awoke screaming, soaked in sweat and breathing heavily the memories had disappeared completely. Dean wanted to know but at the same time he didn't want to know. It was confusing and frustrating.

He shook his head again and his thoughts immediately turned to Sam. Kind, gentle and loving Sam. Dean wrapped his arms around his body trying to stop the ache in his chest at not being allowed to say goodbye to his brother. He missed Sam desperately. Tears threatened to run down his face as he tried to convince himself that leaving was the best thing to do. Sam would be free of him, free to live his normal life.

Sam whom he loved more than life itself. Dean had always felt close to Sam but recently they had somehow changed the dynamic of their relationship. Dean knew that they both felt it even though they both tried to deny it. Dean was working up the courage to tell Sam how he felt when his father had called telling them that he had closed in on the demon. Then he remembered nothing until he had woken up in the hospital not being able to see. If that wasn't frightening enough, he had suffered two major seizures in a row and that terrified him much more than anything supernatural he had ever faced. Sam had never left his side but Dean couldn't bring himself to tell his brother how he felt. He didn't want Sam's pity or for Sam to feel obligated to him in any way. But it hurt more than he had ever imagined.

Dean swiped at the threatened tears and bit back another curse. He felt like ever since he had woken up he had been struggling not to cry or scream or both. Dean Winchester did not cry. Dean Winchester was never afraid. He had been repeating those two sentences like a mantra over and over in his head for over a month. Every time the doctors talked to him about his brain injury, his sight, the slight stutter he suffered when he was tired, the seizures or his future care Dean would half listen to what they were saying as he repeated the words over and over in his head. The fact that he felt like a frightened child he pushed firmly to the back of his mind ignoring the thought with all his determination.

"You're being such a girl," Dean chastised himself as he stood up. He stood for a moment getting his bearings before making his way towards the small bathroom. He felt his way around until he found the basin. Fumbling for the taps Dean splashed some cool water on his face. Straightening up he reached out in front of him, his finger tips touching the coldness of the mirror Dean knew would be there. He ran his fingers up and down the mirror knowing his face was reflected in the glass but all he could see was darkness. "Can't even see yourself," Dean thought bitterly.

His thoughts turned once again to Sam and he swiped again at the tears that were determined to flow down his face. Suddenly angry with himself and the whole world, Dean curled his hand into a fist and smashed it hard into the mirror. The glass shattering echoed around the small bathroom and Dean hit the mirror over and over until he couldn't hear the glass falling into the basin any more. His fist stung as broken glass pierced his skin.

Ignoring the stinging sensation and the feel of warm blood trickling down his hand and arm Dean felt for the wall to the right of him. Moving he wrapped his arms tightly around his body as he slid down the wall to the floor. He leant his head on his knees letting his tears flow freely. It was official. Dean Winchester did cry. And for the first time in his life Dean Winchester was terrified of the dark. He'd never felt so lost and alone in his life. "Sammy," Dean breathed.

 

 

**Sam and Dean**

Sam hesitated at the door to Dean's motel room. It was early in the morning but he knew Dean was up because he could hear movements inside the room. It had taken him three days of criss-crossing backwards and forwards following the confusing trail his brother had left. Even blind Dean had managed to cover his tracks but Sam remained determined refusing to give up and finally his stubbornness and dogged pursuit paid off. Sam had found his brother. He had even spoken to the cab driver who had taken Dean to the motel who assured him that his brother was fine.

Sam couldn't help feeling slightly nervous. Steeling his nerve he raised his hand and knocked on the door. No answer. "Dean," he called. "It's Sam. Let me in," Sam knocked again. Silence. "Dean," Sam yelled. "If you don't let me in I will kick the damn door in," he banged on the door again for effect. Sam hadn't come this far for his brother to ignore him. He banged on the door again.

The door swung open startling Sam making him jump backwards. "What?" Dean snarled. Dean had known that the knocking on the door was Sam having heard the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine as it drew up outside his room. The creaking of the door opening and closing had made him want to scream and hurl things around the room and Dean had struggled to get his emotions and the ache he felt at never being able to drive his baby again under control before opening the door to his brother.

Sam just wanted to hug his brother, hold him and never him go but reluctantly decided upon nonchalant for the time being. "Thought I'd come and check on you dude," Sam said evenly stepping past his brother before the door was slammed in his face.

"Well now you've seen me," Dean folded his arms across his chest. "Sorry I can't return the favour," he said bitterly.

"Dean," Sam chastised glaring at his brother.

"I know you're pulling your Sammy is angry face," Dean cocked his head to one side. He could almost see the familiar glare his brother always used on him when he was angry.

"How did you know?" Sam couldn't help saying not being able to hide the surprise in his voice at his brother's perceptiveness.

"You are just so predictable Sammy," Dean replied. "So now you've seen me you can go," he waved towards the door.

"No think I'll stay," Sam slumped onto one of the beds. "And it's Sam," he took a quick look around the room. It was like every other room they had ever stayed in, two beds, a bedside table, a chest of drawers, wardrobe, table and chairs and a small bathroom leading off the main room. It was obvious that Dean had been in the middle of packing and Sam breathed a sigh of relief glad that he hadn't been too late. He turned his attention back to Dean and looked him up and down. Dean was still deathly pale and the angry cuts and bruises even though they were slowly fading seemed to stand out from the starkness of the pale skin and he guessed that Dean was still hurting from the bruising to his body even though he would die before admitting it to Sam. He also noted a new bruise on Dean's cheekbone and made a mental note to ask Dean how he had come about that one although he had a pretty good idea. Sam silently cursed his pigheaded brother.

"What do you want Sam?" Dean glared in his brother's direction knowing exactly where Sam was sitting. He could feel him, sense him even smell his unique Sam aroma. Dean wrapped his arms around his body resisting the temptation to lean forward and touch Sam. His heart was doing all the talking at the moment but he let his head take over determined to show Sam that he could cope on his own. Dean just hoped that his stupid brain would co-operate and not let him down with stuttering or even worse a seizure.

Sam looked towards his brother shivering slightly at the usually expressive eyes now dull and lifeless. "Why did you run away?" Sam decided to get straight to the point.

Dean didn't miss the shiver and tried to ignore that his blindness was obviously making his brother uncomfortable. But the question surprised Dean and he shrugged. "It's what you wanted," he answered quietly.

"No," Sam said firmly. "It's what Dad wanted. Not me. He didn't me give me a choice in this. And I don't think he gave you one either."

"May be," Dean shrugged again. His father's hurtful words popped into his head again and he couldn't help flinching at their harshness and the pain they caused him.

Sam noticed the flinch. "Dean," he got to his feet. The temptation was too much and he leant forward putting his hand out to touch his brother. To comfort him.

But Dean sensed the movement jerking his body away from Sam's hand hugging himself tighter knowing that if he let Sam touch him he would fall apart. He needed to keep control so he took a slight step backwards. "Don't touch me," Dean snapped waving one hand in the air. "Just don't."

It was then that Sam noticed the untidily bandaged right hand. "What happened to your hand?" he asked. Out of the corner of his eye Sam noticed that a blood stained shirt had been thrown onto one of the beds.

"Nothing," Dean lied absently hiding his injured hand behind him trying to remember where he had thrown his obviously blood-stained shirt.

"Dean," Sam scolded. "I'm not blind." He immediately cursed himself biting at his bottom lip at the thoughtless words.

Dean's sightless flashed with anger. "No," he snapped. "You're not. You can leave that to me."

"Dean. I'm sorry," Sam stepped forward slowly. "I didn't mean that. Please tell me what you've done to your hand," Sam advanced closer to his brother. "Please," he pleaded.

Dean remained stubbornly silent scowling at Sam. "I can't see your face," Dean snapped. "So it's no good using your puppy dog eyes on me. Because it aint gonna work."

"Dean," Sam begged. "I just want to know what you've done to your hand dude. Don't be a stupid stubborn ass."

"I'm not," Dean pouted. He sensed they were close to the table. Putting his hand out to the right, he snagged a sheet of paper that he knew was there. Rolling it into a ball he threw his paper missile towards the trash can in the corner of the room. It landed dead centre in the trash can. "See," he smirked in triumph at Sam knowing it was worth the three hours of practice yesterday afternoon. Dean just wished he could see the look on his brother's face.

Sam couldn't help but be impressed. Dean's aim had always been deadly and even blind his aim and co-ordination had been excellent. He gave a small smile sad that Dean couldn't see him. "Impressive," Sam conceded. "But I still want to know what you've done to your hand."

Dean cursed Sam's obstinacy and sensed that his brother was moving closer and took another step backwards. His emotions were all jumbled and he felt defenceless and angry all at the same time. "You want to know what I did to my hand?" Dean yelled hurt and temper finally getting the better of him. "Well I'll tell you little brother. I smashed the mirror in the bathroom because I couldn't see it. Happy now?"

"No of course I'm not happy," Sam said moving steadily closer and closer to his brother. "Have you had it seen to properly?" he asked knowing it was a stupid question.

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam couldn't help smiling at his brother's characteristic reaction. "Did it myself. As always." Dean stepped back again. "I may be blind but I can still look after myself."

"I know you can," Sam replied calmly. "But I just want to check that you've removed all the glass."

"Why because I can't see," Dean accused angrily.

"No," Sam replied evenly. "Because I care."

Dean suddenly felt tired and he knew there was danger of him stuttering. He took some calming breaths to compose himself glad that for once he had listened when his doctor told him how to control the stammering. He didn't want to stutter in front of Sam. "Just go home Sam. Or back to college or wherever the hell you want," Dean muttered defeated as he backed into the wall behind him holding his injured hand against his chest. "And leave me alone." He gave himself a silent pat on the back for not stuttering and took some more soothing breaths.

Sam felt his anger rising but pushed it down. "Go home. Go to college," he said as calmly as he could manage. "What do you mean go home and leave you alone? Do I mean so little to you? Has the last three years on the road together meant nothing to you at all?"

Dean stared towards his feet. He felt guilty hurting Sam but it was for the best. His father had said so. Sam could return to his normal life. Dean knew he could hurt Sam but never in his life had he intentionally lied to his brother. Bent the truth but never lied outright. He sighed. "It's been the best," he murmured quietly.

Sam stepped forwards knowing that Dean had nowhere to run to. "I didn't quite hear you," he shouted his anger finally getting the better of him. "What did you say?"

Dean jerked his head up towards his brother. Sam was surprised at the intensity of his brother's gaze. Even sightless Dean's eyes were and always would be the windows to his soul and Sam could see all his brother's emotions flicker in the unseeing greenness. "Yes. I said yes," Dean yelled. "Of course, it's meant something..... And you mean..... mean the world to me. You always have done. But you don't have to stay with me.... me outta some sort of misplaced duty. I don't want to be a burden. And I aint gonna be," Dean folded his arms across his chest in determination. "You deserve your normal life. You don't have to stay around a blind man who's useless to everyone including himself," he spat bitterly.

"Burden," Sam stuttered confused at the hurtful words. "You're not a burden. And I definitely did not chase half way across three counties out of some sort of duty. Where an earth did you get a stupid idea like that?" he asked a fresh surge of anger rising within him although he had a pretty good idea where the notion came from.

Dean stared back down at his boots. "D-d-ddad," he finally stammered. He hated admitting it knowing that Sam would be angry. He wasn't disappointed.

"I don't believe it," Sam exploded pacing round and round the room. "He is such an asshole," he slumped down on the bed again. "I'll never ever forgive him for this," Sam muttered to himself. He suspected that his father had said something to Dean to make him leave without saying goodbye, but he couldn't believe that his father could be so cruel and hurtful to Dean.

"D-d-ddad was-s-sss only d-dddoing w-w-wwwhat he th-th-tttthought w-w-was b-b-bbbest," Dean stuttered. He hated his father at the moment and just thinking the words had been hard for him, made him stammer. And he hated himself for showing weakness in front of Sam. Blushing he started to pace the room ignoring his brother as he battled to get himself under control trying to calm his breathing again. 

Sam noticed the stuttering and knew that it was because his brother was tired and upset. He decided to let Dean get himself under control and watched silently and in fascination as his brother circled the room over and over never tripping or stumbling into any piece of furniture or object in his way. He could almost forget that his brother was blind. He knew that Dean's skills as a hunter were honed and finely tuned and Sam guessed that his brother was using the skills he had learned over many years to help him now. "I would never think you're a burden," Sam continued to say. "How could you believe that? We're brothers. And that means something to me."

"Me too," Dean whispered as he continued to pace. He felt calmer and the stammer had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and he gave a small sigh of relief. "I just thought," he started to say.

"You just thought," Sam interrupted. "That you would do whatever Dad says. Just like the good soldier you are," Sam couldn't help himself, his deep seated anger at his father flaring up again. He turned and glared up at Dean forgetting that his brother couldn't see his angry expression. "Again."

Dean turned on Sam his blind eyes blazing with anger. He had sensed Sam shiver earlier and now the thought of Sam feeling uncomfortable with his blindness fuelled his anger. He moved towards the sound of Sam's voice and leaned forwards instinctively knowing where his brother was sitting. "Well that kinda doesn't matter now does it?" he leaned even closer. "A blind soldier is worse that useless," he hissed. "Dad didn't say it out loud. He didn't have to. I just know it was what he was thinking." He turned away biting at his lip as he slumped on the bed opposite Sam all the fight and anger draining out of him.

"Dean," Sam said cautiously as he carefully reached out laying his hand on Dean's knee. Dean flinched slightly but made no move to dislodge Sam's hand. Sam made a mental note to try and let his brother know when he was going to touch him so as not to startle him. "I'm sorry. He shoulda never said that. You're not useless," Sam gave a small grin. "Hey you got here all on your own. That's not the actions of a useless man." 

"You found me," Dean muttered.

"I learned from the best," Sam replied. "You." 

Dean remained silent for a moment struggling to get his temper under control. "May be," he conceded as he turned bleak eyes back to Sam. Sam's hand still rested on his knee and he moved slightly covering it with his own. Dean took a deep breath. He needed to make Sam understand and he didn't want his brother to feel uncomfortable around him. "I'm afraid.... afraid," Dean whispered. He leant forward putting his head on his free hand. He felt like crying again and cursed his stupid weakness but was determined to keep control of himself. He could feel his body start to tremble. Dean felt the bed dip as Sam sat next to him. "I've never been afraid of the dark," he murmured. " Never. Even though I know what's out there. But I am now." 

Sam remained silent stunned at his brother's admission. Stunned that Dean had actually voiced his fears without him bullying or guilting him into it. Sam didn't care if his brother called him a girl. He shifted closer to Dean feeling the tremble in his brother's body. He cautiously put his own free hand on his brother's back rubbing gently in small circles. Dean rewarded him by not recoiling away from his touch. "You don't have to be afraid," Sam whispered. "Because I'm here. Just like you were when I was a kid and afraid of the dark." 

"Yeah?" Dean smiled slightly. He turned his head towards Sam. "But I want you to have your normal life Sam. You deserve that after everything you've been through. I wasn't trying to hurt you by leaving. I'm sorry if I did. And I tried to say goodbye but D-ddad.... I just.....," he was suddenly lost for words.

"It's OK," Sam soothed still rubbing his hand across Dean's back. He cursed John Winchester again wondering how his father could have been so cruel to Dean, the son that idolised him.

"This....... this is really freaking me out," Dean admitted. "I hate it. And those damn seizures scare me. I feel like I'm outta control of my life."

"Is that where the new bruise came from?" Sam asked gently not really expecting a reply.

"Hit the bedside table as I went down," Dean muttered. "The pills help but... well not all the time. Guess I shouldn't have been such a stubborn ass and gone to the Centre like Dad wanted," Dean's voice wavered.

"Sshhhhh," Sam comforted not really believing that he'd got a second admission out of his usually hard-headed brother. "We'll get it sorted. And we'll get through this. Like we always do," Sam continued. "Together. I promise."

"No," Dean replied shaking his head steeling his heart against the sudden pain he felt. "It's not fair on you. You have to go to college and be... well be whatever you want. It's what you've always wanted. It's what you deserve Sammy. I'll be OK," he said. "May be you can drop me at that Rehab Centre if they'll still take me." He couldn't help shivering at the thought. "You can visit on weekends and at the holidays."

"Is that what you really want?" Sam asked. "You want me to leave you there and go back to college as though nothing has happened?" Dean gave a small nod. Sam bit the inside of his mouth to stop the tears. He knew that his brother was giving him an out and he loved him a little bit more if that was possible. "Dean?" he said trying to keep the wobble out of his voice. "Are you sure?" Dean nodded again. Tears brimmed in Sam's eyes and he let them fall down his face unchecked. Dean was sending him away and he couldn't bear that.

Dean inclined his head towards the sound of Sam's voice. He hated the darkness but even more he hated the fact that he couldn't see Sam's face. Dean cocked his head again listening carefully to the tone in Sam's voice. Sam sounded lost, sad and lonely. His instinct took over. Hesitantly, Dean reached a hand towards Sam's face brushing his finger tips over his brother's cheek feeling the wetness of the tears. "I think you're leaking," Dean teased softly. "You are such a girl Sammy."

Sam choked back a laugh grasping Dean's hand. "Please don't send me away," he sobbed. "Please. We can do this. And I have a plan."

"Sam," Dean started to protest pulling his hand out of Sam's grip. Dean could hear the desperation in his brother's voice. His blindness had made him sensitive to the inflections in peoples' voices. It was almost as though instead of seeing their faces he could hear their expressions.

"Please Dean," Sam pleaded as he swiped at his tears. "It's a good plan. Just hear me out and ... and if you really hate it, I will drive you to the Rehab Centre myself. OK?"

Dean sighed running his hand through his hair. He didn't really want to go to the Rehab Centre and Sam sounded so hopeful. He wanted to be near Sam. Needed to be near Sam. And Sam had come to find him. Had tracked him down instead of going to college and forgetting all about his stupid brother. Dean couldn't help feeling a little piece of hope. Perhaps he wouldn't be alone after all. Dean took a deep breath. "OK," he replied. "Let's hear this plan of yours."

"Good," Sam smiled. "And while I'm telling you my plan I'll check your hand," he grasped Dean's injured hand carefully but firmly and began to unwind the bandage.

Dean pulled a face as he rolled his eyes but he couldn't miss the happiness in his brother's voice. "Bitch," he muttered as he surrendered to Sam's ministrations.

"Jerk," Sam retorted with a grin.

 

**Half an hour later.......**

 

Half an hour later they were sitting opposite each other in the diner next to the motel, Sam having coaxed Dean out of his room for breakfast. He had also promised to outline his plan over their meal. Sam had checked and re-bandaged Dean's hand and despite his brother's loud protests had even cleaned the broken glass up in the bathroom. Dean had been strangely quiet as he led him into the diner and seated them in a booth near the window. But Sam hadn't missed the trembling of his brother's body knowing that he was probably nervous. "You're not eating," Sam observed. He went back to staring at the laptop as he scooped up some bacon and ate it.

"N-nnot h-hhhungry," Dean stammered. He was nervous and he cursed himself for the stutter. He moved his head until he felt the sun's warmth on his skin. He concentrated on calming his breathing. He stretched his body slightly gritting his teeth as his bruised body protested. He was hungry and he wanted to ask for help but he just didn't know how. Dean couldn't bear the thought of Sam seeing him struggling to do something as simple as eat his breakfast without spilling it down himself. Over the last two days he had take out delivered to his room to avoid coming to the diner. It was frustrating. Somehow he was able to sense what look or expression Sam had on his face or how or where he was standing but something as simple as finding his breakfast plate or mug seemed impossible. Dean sighed to himself how could something as eating breakfast be so difficult. He cautiously moved his hand hoping that his coffee mug was within his reach. He reached out with his fingers but couldn't feel anything close by. Dean sighed again giving up. 

Sam was busy planning their route on the laptop but looked up in surprise. Dean was always hungry and then Sam noted that he hadn't touched his coffee either. It hit him like a lightning bolt and he cursed himself silently for not recognising the obvious signs. He should have known and he felt a stab of guilt at his selfishness. Sam quickly glanced around the diner and moved Dean's plate into a sightly different position. "Bacon is at twelve o'clock, pancakes at twelve thirty," he whispered as he pushed the plate until it touched one of his brother's hands. He also pushed the knife and fork towards the same hand. "And coffee is just here," he reached across the table and moved Dean's left hand to the mug. "OK?" 

Dean rewarded him with a small smile. "Just didn't wanna end up wearing it," he admitted quietly as he grasped the mug firmly glad he had got the stammer under control.

"I'm sorry," Sam leant forward. "I just kinda forgot." 

"It's OK Sammy," Dean took a sip of his coffee. "It's gonna take a while to get used to it……. for both of us." He shrugged feeling for the edge of the table. He carefully placed the mug back on the table. "And this," he waved at his eyes. "Don't mean you can mother hen me every five minutes. OK?" Sam nodded turning back to the laptop. "OK," Dean repeated a bit louder. 

"Sorry," Sam apologised immediately realising his mistake. 

Dean cocked his head on one side. "Quit it with the sad looks," he fumbled with his knife and fork." 

"Sorry," Sam repeated. 

Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation and shot his brother his best irritated look. "Sammy," he threatened. "I said quit it. And that includes you saying sorry all the time. OK?" 

"Sor....," Sam went to say automatically.   Dean glared at him.   "OK," Sam quickly amended with a small smile. 

Dean smiled. Sam watched as Dean worked out and successfully speared his pancake. Sam wanted to cheer but kept silent. Dean looked towards him and Sam was taken aback again by the intensity of the gaze his brother gave him. "It'll be OK Sammy. Don't worry," Dean said as he speared a second piece of pancake deciding to change the subject to get his brother concentrating on something else other than him and his blindness. "You said you had a plan. So spill. Where are we going little brother?" He tried and failed to keep the hope out of his voice. 

Sam stared at Dean for a moment more before turning back to his laptop. It had taken a lot of persuading to get Dean to listen to him and he just hoped that his brother would agree to his plan. He took a deep calming breath. "Pastor Jim's new town," Sam replied. 

"What?" Dean looked up in surprise. "We can't. We promised." 

Eighteen months previously they had helped Pastor Jim relocate to a new town away from his home and any danger the yellow-eyed demon might present. They had found out from Bobby that the Pastor hadn't been murdered by demon Meg. He had miraculously survived but had been seriously injured and was in a coma in a small nursing home fifty miles from his home. 

In order to protect his friend Bobby had lied to all the hunters they knew telling them that Jim had died. They even had a funeral. But Bobby trusted Dean and Sam and had finally called Dean telling him the truth. After leaving their father, Dean and Sam had travelled to see their old friend in hospital. They and Bobby had stayed with the Pastor until he had woken up a month later dodging and ignoring calls from their father. 

Jim had recovered slowly but had been left with a nasty scar across his neck, various smaller scars over his entire body and a leg injury that had left him with a pronounced and permanent limp. Then Bobby had helped them persuade Jim to move away and start a new life in a different town in the middle of no-where. The Pastor had reluctantly agreed, had given up hunting and settled happily into his new parish and the three hunters promised never to contact him or reveal his whereabouts unless it was an emergency.

"I know," Sam agreed.

"So we can't go there," Dean felt for his mug and took a quick sip. "It's not safe for Jim." Dean flopped back in the seat the hope draining from his whole body. The Rehabilitation Centre was calling him and he hated the thought. Dean suddenly felt tired. His head ached and he rubbed at his temples wincing when his finger tips touched the bruises across his forehead. 

Sam noticed the movement. "You OK?" he couldn't help asking. He hated to see Dean looking sick and miserable. "Have you taken your pills?"

"Yeah... and yeah," Dean snapped sitting up again. He turned his sightless eyes towards Sam. "S-ssso you g-gggonna d-dddrive me to th-the Rehab Ccc-entre?" 

Sam noticed that the Dean's stammer had returned and he just wanted to lean over and hug his brother. Take away all his fears and vulnerabilities. "No," he said stubbornly. "The demon's dead. So Jim will be safe. And this is an emergency. We are both going to Pastor Jim's. It's all settled. And he's expecting us."

"B-bbbut....," Dean started to say. 

"No buts," Sam interrupted. "We're going." Sam folded his arms across his chest determined. Despite his promise he'd die before he took Dean to the Rehab Centre. His expression took on a pout and he tightened his arms across his chest hoping that Dean could sense his mood, that he wouldn't need to say anything else. 

Sam watched quietly not moving as Dean cocked his head to one side as though he was trying to discern something only he could hear in Sam's stubborn silence. "You've got your arms folded," Dean smirked finally getting the stuttering under control. "In that pigheaded Sammy pose," he leant across the table to check he was right. Dean gave Sam a small smile as he softly touched his brother's face. "And don't pout. It don't suit you." 

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean trying to ignore his brother's amazing perceptiveness and the fact that Dean had touched him. "I hate you," he snarked although he was pleased that he had got his message across.   Sam also knew that he was going to remember the soft touch to his face for a while to come and he absently rubbed his own fingers over the spot where Dean had touched him.

"I know but we still can't go," Dean persisted. 

Sam sighed in exasperation and Dean pulled a face at him. "I've planned our route so nobody can track us. Jim even helped me with some little known back roads that we can use. And the town itself is miles away from ..... well anywhere. You know that. You helped pick it out." 

"But," Dean bit at his lip feeling tears welling up in his eyes. He started to repeat his favourite mantra in his head over and over.

"It's safe. Nobody will ever think to look for us there," Sam persisted. "Not even Dad," he voiced what both of them were secretly thinking. "Even the great John Winchester thinks Jim is dead." Sam grabbed Dean's hand and squeezed gently reassuringly. I won't let anything and or anyone ever hurt you again. I promise." 

"I know," Dean muttered squeezing Sam's hand back. He attempted another small smile in his brother's direction. He wanted to go. Wanted to be with Sam but he was afraid. For both of them. For their friend Jim. 

Sam recognised his brother's resolve weakening and decided to capitalise on it and he hadn't missed the tears welling up in his brother's pale eyes. He instinctively knew that Dean was thinking about living at the Rehab Centre as well as the danger they might put their friend in. "We can do this Dean. I've cleared every bank account we've ever had. Transferred all the money into one new joint account ..... and before you ask the transactions can't be traced. I made sure," he allowed himself a small smile. "So we've even got a bit of cash behind us." 

"I don't know," Dean said. He jumped as the waitress brushed his arm reaching over to pour them more coffee. Feeling overly protective of his brother Sam couldn't help glaring at the woman. She mouthed an apology and quickly left. "Sammy. Lighten up. OK? She didn't know," Dean defended the waitress. 

"It's Sam," Sam scowled at Dean. He immediately felt sad and guilty that Dean couldn't see his expression. He swiped at his own threatening tears. Clearing his throat Sam looked back at the laptop at the complicated route he and Jim had planned. It would take them five days in total. He decided there and then he wasn't giving his brother a chance to back out of his plan. He needed Dean in his life, couldn't live without him. "Right," Sam snapped the laptop closed and stuffed it into his holdall. "Let's get back to the motel. Get packed and get on the road. The Impala is waiting for us." 

"Sammy," Dean started to protest.

"You coming?" Sam challenged. "Or do I have to drag your sorry ass outta here and stuff you in the Impala's trunk?" 

Dean pulled a face at Sam. But the hope was back in his heart and Dean knew that he was going to follow Sam, wherever Sam wanted to go. He needed his brother desperately. The decision had been made the moment Sam turned up on his doorstep. Dean gave a theatrical sigh for effect only. "You are such a control freak," he complained as he got to his feet wincing at the effort. Dean felt his way along the edge of the table until he reached the end. Keeping his hand on the back of the seat Dean closed his eyes as he tried to remember the direction of the door. Taking a deep breath he let go of the back of the seat turning full circle. Dean sensed that Sam was at his elbow. Without saying anything Sam turned him slightly to the right. Dean pulled away from his brother's hand in an effort to prove that Sam wasn't the only stubborn Winchester brother.

"It's my arm or the stick," Sam hissed in his ear. "I hate that stick," Dean muttered as he reluctantly put his hand on Sam's arm. Sam carefully led his brother out of the diner making sure he didn't walk into anything.

 

**Dean and Pastor Jim**

 

Two months later.........

Dean knew he should be happy . He wanted to be happy but he couldn't help feeling that his life was over. He only knew how to do one thing. Hunt. And because of his stupid brain and useless eyes he would never hunt again. He couldn't even drive his beloved Impala. Dean could hardly bear to go near it knowing that he would never sit behind the wheel again. But he had made sure that Sam had safely driven it in the barn at the back of their house and covered it with two heavy tarpaulins to protect its paintwork from the weather.

Dean was miserable and he was terrified that he would make Sam miserable too and make his brother leave. Sam always made him feel better with his gentle and calm encouragement but recently Dean had found himself angry and hurt all the time and he had been snapping and snarling at everything his brother did and he hated himself for it. He loved Sam and wanted to tell his brother how he felt but his fear always got in the way and he was terrified that Sam would love him out of pity.

Dean knew he needed to get his life back on track but it was so much easier to sink into depression and not face the world. Every morning he opened his eyes hoping and praying that his sight had miraculously come back in the night. And each morning the darkness greeted him and he couldn't help feeling disappointed. He was alone trapped in a dark world that was more scary than anything he had ever fought and hunted. The darkness that he had been condemned to live in forever was never ending and he felt so lonely and isolated. Dean shivered slightly - he couldn't remember the attack or the final battle with the demon and it frustrated him. His father didn't care or love him anymore and if it hadn't been for Sam he would have already sunken into a pit of deep despair. Dean could feel the despair filling his every pore and sometimes he felt like it was choking and trying to smother him with his own hopelessness. But Sam kept him from drowning, made him feel wanted, loved and needed and Dean desperately wanted to return those feelings. He wanted so much to reach out to Sam. He just didn't know how. His heart ached sometimes knowing that he would never see his brother's face ever again. Dean closed his eyes trying to picture Sam's smiling face without success. He sighed. He couldn't see. Couldn't speak properly sometimes. Couldn't drive his beloved Impala. And couldn't see Sam. It was official - his life sucked big time.

Suddenly irritated with himself and restless Dean started to pace around their living room cursing as his leg caught the edge of the coffee table that he had forgotten was there. "Son of a bitch," he swore as he rubbed at his shin. Dean slumped down on the couch and he let his mind wander aimlessly.

They had taken the planned five days to reach the small town. Pastor Jim Murphy had been eagerly waiting and welcomed them with open arms into his home. Dean had immediately felt safe and protected. Jim had then set to the task of sorting them out. Both he and Sam had tried to protest but Pastor Jim had insisted and wouldn't take no for an answer. They had finally and reluctantly agreed. Jim set to work. He had found Sam a teaching job at the church school and had persuaded the Bishop to let them rent one of the church's small houses.

The house was a small one-storey building set a mile out of town. The house came with a barn at the back and a small piece of land that led into a wooded area which had a small lake. The house itself was fully furnished with two bedrooms that had a spacious bathroom separating the two rooms, a large cosy living room, a fully-equipped kitchen/dining room and a small study. Both Sam and Dean liked the house as it was both near and farther enough away from the town to suit their needs. Pastor Jim and Sam had laid protective symbols around the house, the barn, the wooded area and even the lake as a precaution.

Once moved into their new home Pastor Jim had then set about organising medical care for Dean arranging an appointment with a doctor friend who was based at the nearest hospital fifty miles from the town itself. Fortunately, the doctor also ran a weekly clinic in the local town hall so it saved Sam and Dean having to drive fifty miles every time Dean needed a check up. His medication had gradually been sorted out with the current pills and dosage working well. His last seizure had been a month ago which Dean had put it mainly down to his tiredness. But it had meant a two day stay in the hospital mainly due to the severity of the seizure and the doctor insisting on assessing his situation. Despite his complaints and the many tests and scans he endured Dean knew that it had helped the doctor gauge the correct dosages of medication he would need and for that he was grateful. Dean still suffered from the headaches and when he was tired or upset, the stuttering came back with a vengeance but he managed to deal with them as they hit him. The seizures and the blindness were another matter though.

The only bright spot in his life was his brother. Sam was happy. He loved his job teaching at the school and came home every night with tales about the children and his day. Dean liked to hear the stories but it always made him feel sad and useless that he couldn't do something to help them. They had enough money to be comfortable but Dean desperately wanted to feel useful and he absolutely hated not being able to do things he had always taken for granted. Even getting dressed was a nightmare and on more than one occasion Sam had to tell him about a t-shirt that he had put on the wrong way round. Dean tried again to imagine Sam's face again but his mind remained blank making him bite his lip to stifle the threatened tears. Shaking the miserable thoughts from his head Dean decided to venture outside. He grabbed his anorak shrugging in to it. His fingers fumbled with the zip but with a few carefully chosen swear words he eventually managed to do up the coat. Wrapping a scarf around his neck Dean grabbed for his hated white stick and opened the door. A blast of cold air hit him in the face and he nearly turned back inside. "It's only cold air for goodness sake," he chastised himself. "You hunted ghosts and all kinds of scary stuff," Dean told himself as he grabbed for the handrail and carefully made his way down the steps.

Dean had Sam to thank again for his independence although he hadn't been very gracious at the time. Dean had cursed and complained the whole time. He had known he could do it but he just wanted to hide away. But as always Sam had other ideas and had determinedly coaxed him out of the safety of the house teaching him how to use the stick properly. Sam had then insisted that he count out steps to each building in the small township making him memorise landmarks all in an effort to make him feel confident in leaving their home alone. Dean had resisted at first but Sam's gentle but firm persuasion had eventually won out over his pig-headedness. Dean had also learned to use his other senses to help him especially his hearing and he hated to admit it but his years of hunting also helped compensate for his blindness.

At their gate he turned right heading towards the small township that he had never seen. Sam and Dean had chosen the town mainly for its isolation but it had been Bobby that had helped the Pastor relocate as the brothers felt they couldn't easily dodge their father's more and more demanding and angry messages.

Dean carefully made his way along the street moving his stick left and right in front of him as Sam had taught him. Each morning Dean found himself walking in the same direction drawn by the sounds of their play. He refused to admit that it had anything to do with the fact that Sam worked at the school. The children squealed in delight and Dean knew that there was some kind of ball game going on. He made for the bench he had found on the first morning he had ventured out alone. Sitting down Dean closed his eyes letting the joy and happy sounds wash over his body. He concentrated on the sounds blocking out the rest of the world. A familiar voice startled him out of reverie and he couldn't help jumping. He opened his eyes and looked towards the sound of the voice.

"Dean," Pastor Jim chuckled. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's just mean. Creeping up on the blind guy," Dean teased as he relaxed. "Should Pastor's do that?"

"Probably not," Jim eased his body down next to Dean. "But old habits die hard."

"Do you still keep weapons and stuff in your basement?" Dean asked curious.

Jim sighed. "Dean. I was a hunter for over thirty years," he said. "What do you think the answer is?"

"Same here," Dean nodded. "The weapons outta the Impala are in our basement safely locked away."

"Hopefully we'll both never need to use them again," Jim patted Dean's knee.

Dean turned towards the school yard deciding to change the subject. Thinking about hunting hurt him too much. Reminded him of everything he couldn't do. He turned towards the school yard. "Sounds like fun," he waved in the direction of the happy sounds.

"Yes the children love to play ball," Jim chuckled. "I couldn't help noticing that you sit here most mornings so I thought I'd come and keep you company."

Jim had watched his friend for over ten minutes before deciding to come and sit with him. Pastor Jim Murphy had a plan. Dean was still too pale for his liking and he knew that Sam was worried about his brother. They had talked at length both concerned that Dean would descend into a dark depression that even they wouldn't be able to save him from. They had both seen and witnessed the signs and so Jim had decided to do something about it. He had determined that he was going to give Dean a shove in the right direction. And today was the day. Both Dean and Sam were too important to him not to take action. Jim didn't question why but he knew that Dean needed Sam and visa versa. They were opposite sides of one coin and they belonged together.

"Sam send you?" Dean asked with a scowl staring sightlessly ahead. He fiddled with his scarf nervously.

"He's just worried about you," Jim dodged the question easily.

"Well next time you see him tell him I'm OK," Dean snapped bitterly. "Perhaps he'll believe you."

"Dean," Jim said patiently. "Don't be angry at Sam because he cares. If your positions were reversed you'd do the same. I know you would."

Dean bit at his lip knowing that, as always, Pastor Jim was right. "May be," he finally acknowledged with a sigh and his usual shrug.

Jim laughed out loud. "You never change Dean Winchester," he laughed again at the scowl Dean shot him. "But do me a favour never ever change. Stay just the way you are. A royal pain in the ass."

Dean couldn't help grinning. "A pain in the ass I can do. No problem." Jim silently offered up a small prayer. He had just seen a glimmer of the old Dean shining through. All was not lost.

"I am sure you can," Jim grinned again. "So what are you doing sitting here all by yourself?"

"I like to listen to the children play," Dean admitted quietly. He flushed slightly at the admission. "Reminds me of ... well what childhood should sound like." He dropped his head and Jim saw the flash of pain reflected in the unseeing green eyes.

"So what do you think of our little town?" Jim decided to change the subject as they seemed to keep picking subjects that seemed to upset Dean.

"Haven't seen it," Dean answered casually as he stretched his legs out in front of him. He could feel his anger rising and he took a few calming breaths. "So don't know." He leaned back and half-glared at Jim.

"Have you ever asked Sam?" Jim wasn't deterred by Dean's attitude. He'd even expected it. Dean had always been a mystery to him. Even as a child Dean exuded an aura of hostility, always on the defensive and never showing a softer side except when he was dealing with a young Sam. He suspected the same was true today and guessed that Dean only showed his softer side to his brother. Dean intrigued Jim and was a puzzle that one day he would figure out. Until then he determined to ignore Dean's attempts to push him away.

Jim had always loved Dean and Sam as if they were his own children and on several occasions had begged John Winchester to let the boys live with him so he could give them a normal childhood. But John had always refused his endless offers and in the end Jim had given up content in the fact that his friend still brought the boys to visit him several times each year. They had been happy times for both the boys as well as himself and Jim had even decorated one of his rooms especially for them never allowing anyone else to use the room.

"Asked him what?" Dean frowned.

Dean looked so confused that Jim nearly laughed at his friend's expression. "To paint you a picture," the Pastor answered simply.

"Jim," Dean glared at his friend. "In case you haven't noticed I can't see. So painting me a picture would ..... well be kinda stupid."

Jim studied Dean for a moment. The pale green eyes were dull and lifeless and stared at him unseeing. He admitted it was a little disconcerting, but Jim dismissed the thoughts. This was Dean and he loved him blind or not. "Not that kind of picture," Jim lightly punched Dean. "A verbal picture. You could ask Sam to describe the town to you."

"Why would I do that?" Dean muttered turning away from his friend.

"To help you see the town," Jim explained patiently. "May be then things wouldn't seem so dark and scary."

Dean's head snapped around and he stared at his friend startled by Jim's perceptiveness. His expression turned to a frown. "May be," he said non-committally. "But I'm not scared," Dean added mulishly.

"Dean," Jim said softly. "It's OK to be scared. Nobody is going to judge you. Not me. And definitely not Sam."

"But," Dean started to say.

Jim put a hand on Dean's knee stopping him mid-sentence. "No buts," Jim replied. "Now about this picture?" Dean sighed turning away from Jim again with a small shrug. "OK," Jim blew out an exasperated breath knowing that Dean would never ask Sam. "I'll do it. Now stand up," he dragged himself to his feet. He rubbed absently at his injured leg, the cold air making it ache more than usual. "My hand is just in front of you," Jim encouraged with a smile.

"Jim," Dean started to protest.

"I was doing stubborn long before you were born," Jim continued to hold his hand out in front of Dean.

Dean knew that this was one battle he wouldn't win. He sighed as he reached out and grabbed the Pastor's offered hand. Jim pulled Dean to his feet and then moved to stand behind him. "Let's start with something easy." He looked up towards the sky. "The sky is a lovely blue colour today and there are no clouds. The sun is shining. And its rays are bouncing off everything making them glow and sparkle. Makes everything look clean. And its peaceful."

"You sound like Sammy," Dean snorted at the description but tried, in his mind's eye, to picture what Pastor Jim was describing to him. "Now tell me about the town?" he said impatiently.

Jim smiled to himself encouraged by Dean's reaction. "OK. Behind us is the school where Sam teaches." Dean nodded. "It's an old building with large windows and brownish coloured bricks." Jim turned Dean slightly. "Next to the school on our right is my church.... and it looks like.... well a church."

"You suck at painting," Dean teased gently but Jim noticed that his friend had closed his eyes as if trying to visualise what he was describing. Jim chuckled and turned Dean again. "Next to the church is my house and it's a sort of dirty brown and cream colour with a front porch."

"Needs a paint job," Dean teased again.

"Probably," Jim agreed. "I might take you up on your offer later in the year."

"Just don't let me pick out the paint on my own," Dean retorted. "With these eyes you could end up with a girly pale pink house. And even for a Pastor that would be so uncool."

Jim snorted and tapped Dean's shoulder. "In front of you is a large area of grass and beyond that is the road where your house is." Dean nodded again as the Pastor turned him slightly to the left. "To your left is the remainder of the town. There's a long main street with lots of little streets leading off it. And at the other end of the main street is the Town Hall which looks like.... well a Town Hall," he said sheepishly.

"I think you need to practice painting," Dean interrupted.

Jim huffed and continued with his description. "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. The houses and businesses are all different colours. A mixture of reds, greens and browns. No girly pink you'll be happy t hear."

"Damn straight," Dean interrupted again.

"Some of the houses are wooden and some brick built," Jim continued with a small smile. "Now what else," he paused for a moment. "Lets see the town was founded in the late 1800's, has both a summer and winter carnival, celebrates Halloween like no other town and has an excellent Womens' Institute who's cookies are second to none. I've tried them so I know. And we have our own Mayor and share a sheriff with the next town over. And at present including you and Sam there are 1442 residents in total."

"Now you sound like the town brochure," Dean couldn't help a small laugh.

"Smart ass," Jim countered but a small sparkle in the sightless green eyes gave him hope and spurred him on.

"Language Pastor," Dean baited.

Jim ignored the comment. "But can you see it now? Up here?" Jim tapped at Dean's head gently.

Dean screwed up his eyes for a moment recalling everything Jim had told him. "Sort of," he conceded with a small smile.

Jim decided to press his advantage and tugged on Dean's arm. "It's too cold out here for an old man like me. Shall we go inside?"

"Inside where?" Dean asked suspiciously pulling back from the Pastor.

"The school. Today is my morning for telling the younger children stories. And then we paint pictures and sometimes act out the stories," he explained. "It gives Miss Miller a break and quite frankly I love doing it. It makes me feel young again."

"I don't think.....," Dean started to protest as he backed away from the Pastor.

"We won't see Sam if you don't want to," Jim assured Dean. "He teaches the older children at the other end of the school. And what else are you doing?" he insisted grabbing hold of Dean's arm again.

"N-nnnoo," Dean stammered looking panicked. He shook his head shrugging out of Jim's hold. "I c-cccan't." He took another step backwards, the back of his knees connecting with the bench. Dean stumbled slightly.

"Whoa Dean," Jim moved forwards steadying Dean before he fell. "Calm down," he soothed immediately guessing the reason for Dean's panic. He absently ran his hands up and down Dean's arms. "I promise it'll be OK. You won't have a fit."

Dean glared at the Pastor angry that his friend had guessed the reason for his panic. He went back to concentrating on getting his breathing under control and he panted slightly as the cold air wasn't helping. "Freak them out," he managed to voice between pants glad the words were stutter free.

"No you won't Dean," Jim persuaded. "You haven't had a fit in over a month. You've been taking your medication?" Dean managed a small nod. "So everything is OK, and anyway an old man like me needs back up in there," Jim finished with a small grin.

Dean was afraid but he knew that Pastor Jim wouldn't give up. He sighed knowing that he really had no choice. Pastor Jim was right on every count. It was just his own fears he had to face. May be this was the day that he started to get his life back on track. "OK," he agreed reluctantly as he picked up his white stick from the bench.

"Good," Jim breathed a sigh of relief as he began to lead Dean into the schoolhouse towards the classroom.

"What kind of stories do you tell the children?" Dean asked as he was led down the corridor trying to distract himself from his fears and nervousness.

"Bible ones of course," Jim gave a small laugh. "But I make them sound like an adventure. And they seem to like them."

"Sneaky," Dean said.

"It's an old priest trick," Jim answered. "How about today you tell the children a story. Like a guest story teller." Jim knew he was pushing his luck with Dean but he was determined to try. "I remember you used to make up all kinds of stories for Sam when he was younger."

"I don't know," Dean bit at his lip nervously. "What if I screw up. Or st-sstutter like a stupid idiot," he stammered reprimanding himself for the slip.

"Then you'll stop. Take a deep breath and start over again," Jim replied firmly. "Trust me Dean the kids won't judge you. And you need to start focussing on what you can do and not what you can't do."

Dean was terrified. Terrified that he would stutter or even worse have a seizure in front of the children. He could feel his panic rising within him. He'd make a fool of himself. Dean pulled his hand away from the Pastor. "I don't need this crap," he snapped as he turned full circle and began walking back towards the door his stick moving from side to side as he made his way along the unfamiliar corridor. Dean just wanted to escape, wanted to hide.

"Dean," Jim hurried after his friend as fast as his injured leg could carry him. He managed to stand in front of Dean stopping the younger man in his tracks. Not knowing what else to do, Jim snatched Dean's stick away from him placing it firmly behind his back. He knew it was unkind but with Dean Jim knew he had to be cruel to be kind. It was for Dean's sake.

"That's low," Dean stuck his hands out in front of him trying to find his hated stick. "Give me the damn thing back," he snarled leaning in close to Jim. He could see that Dean's whole body was vibrating with barely controlled anger and Jim knew he would have to tread carefully or risk a punch to his face. And he had no doubt that Dean would be able to hit him on target.

"No," Jim replied firmly. Dean tried to get around the Pastor but Jim blocked his exit. Defeated Dean glared angrily at his friend shifting from foot to foot nervously. "Listen to me Dean Winchester," Jim said loudly. "And listen good," he bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself laughing at the surprised look on Dean's face. "I have watched you grow up into a good, gentle and special young man. One that has great capacity to love if only he would get his head outta his ass and let himself go."

Dean turned his head away from his friend in an effort to block out the words that he knew, deep down, were true. Jim wouldn't let him turn away and reached up a hand turning Dean's face back towards him. "Jim," Dean protested with an angry frown.

"I know you can't see me Dean," Jim said calmly. "But you can hear me. And there's no reason you can't face me." Dean huffed in irritation but continued to face towards the Pastor a defiant expression crossing his face. Jim allowed himself a satisfied smirk remembering seeing the expression many times in the past. He offered up a silent prayer hoping that he was doing the right thing. "I have watched you fight, face and kill some of the fiercest and cruelest creatures to ever wander this planet without any hesitation for your own safety," the Pastor continued. "And I have watched you care and protect Sam for all of his life. And most importantly I have never known you to give up. Or turn your back on a battle," Jim said as he patted Dean's shoulder. "You can do this. I know you can. And I promise I'll be there too."

"I don't know," Dean bit at his lip. He wanted to be stubborn and keep misery company, but deep down within himself he wanted to feel happy and alive again.

Jim reached forward to clasped Dean's arm. "Come back to us Dean," he said quietly. "I miss you. Sam misses you. We want our Dean back."

Dean stared in Pastor Jim's direction for a moment considering the words his friend had spoken. People that he loved more than anything in the world wanted him back. May be if he reached out they would help him get his life back. He couldn't quite let himself believe the words but decided that he couldn't let his friend, Sam or himself down. It was time to get his life back. He gave a heavy sigh. "I hate you sometimes," Dean whispered.

"I know you do," Jim smiled knowing that Dean meant something completely different with his words.

"Well.... what are you standing there for old man? Come on," Dean turned around and strode purposely down the corridor, one hand lightly touching the wall to guide him. "Let's get this damn show on the road. And bring my stick with you."

"I've created a monster," Jim chuckled to himself as he hurried after Dean.

Once inside the small classroom, Pastor Jim helped Dean out of his anorak hanging it with his scarf on the coat hooks. After introducing him to the teacher, Miss Miller, he lead Dean to the middle of the small room. "Anyone that isn't a Pastor or Miss Miller sits on the floor with the children at story time," he whispered in Dean's ear.

"I should have guessed Pastors and teachers had an out," Dean hissed back nervously but he did what he was told sitting on the floor and crossing his legs. "I can do this," he repeated over and over in his head.

Jim bent down close to Dean and whispered again. "And remember Dean these children are five and six years old so no bad language when you're telling your story."    Dean looked up towards Jim and pulled a face. Jim chuckled and moved away sitting next to Miss Miller.

Dean fidgeted until he got himself comfortable. He sensed the children around him and it unsettled him slightly. He guessed from the noises around him that there were about fifteen children in total. Dean sensed their curiosity and he could smell their childlike odours of plasticine, candy and paint. His heart thumped loudly in his chest and he smiled what he hoped was a friendly smile.

Jim introduced him telling the children he was going to tell them a story. Dean sensed when all the childrens' eyes turned to him. "I can do this," he told himself as he took a deep breath swallowing his nervousness and began to tell the children a story that he had told Sam when he was five about two brother bears that went on adventures. Sam had always loved his stories about the bears and Dean decided to tell the children about the bears and their adventures with a friendly ghost. Despite his initial reservations Dean found himself enjoying telling the story not noticing that Jim and Miss Miller had slipped out of the room for a moment. The children quietly listened to his story laughing with him when the older bear did something funny to annoy the younger bear. Jim came back into the room just as Dean was finishing his story. He started the clapping and the children joined in. Dean became suddenly and uncharacteristically shy and looked towards his hands embarrassed at the applause.

When the clapping died down Jim stood in front of the children. "Now children listen to me carefully. Dean is blind so he can't see you. So I think it would be a good idea before Dean goes home if you told him your name. And then touch him very gently. We don't want him breaking now do we?" The children laughed and Dean shot a dirty look at the Pastor. Jim just grinned and pointed at a small dark haired boy. "You start Edward."

Each child got up from the floor lining up in front of Dean. The boys stated their names loudly and solemnly shook Dean's hand. The girls shyly took his hand whispering their names in his ear. Dean smiled at each of the children in turn trying to memorise their individual scents and voices. The last child, a small girl with long red plaits, moved towards Dean slowly. Instead of taking his offered hand she flung her arms around his neck. "My name is Elise," she kissed Dean gently on the cheek. "And I think you're really really brave."

Taken aback in surprise. "Thanks Elise," Dean stammered blushing.

"Now children. Get out your paints and paper. I'll be back in a minute," Jim instructed. He turned his attention from the children to help Dean to his feet and into his anorak and scarf. "Did you enjoy yourself?" Jim asked as he lead Dean to the door.

Dean grinned foolishly. "Yeah. I did. They're great kids. And they didn't seem to mind that I couldn't see them," he murmured.

Jim patted his arm gently. "I have found that children tend to be good judges of character. I have learnt that what matters to children is this," he tapped Dean's chest in the region of his heart. "You have a good one Dean Winchester. They sensed that."

"Thanks," Dean said. "Thanks for dragging my sorry ass in here." He smiled and for the first time in two months Jim noticed that it sparkled in his green eyes. He hoped, with all his heart, that Dean was struggling out of the darkness into the light, back to the people that loved him.

"What are friends for," Jim replied. "Now I must get back to the little monsters before they tear the place apart or paint the walls bright red." He patted Dean's arm. "Will you be alright getting home?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Got my trusty stick," he waved his white stick in the air.  He felt happier than he had for a long time and reaching out hadn't been so hard.   Now it was Sam's turn if Dean could just keep his courage for a little while longer. But Dean was determined.  He could do this.

"I'll give you a call tonight," Jim promised.   

Dean couldn't resist it. He leant forward close to Jim's ear. "I think Miss Miller has the hots for you," he whispered mischievously.

Jim stepped back horrified and he blushed despite himself and just for once he was glad that Dean couldn't see him. "Get outta here," he slapped Dean on the arm lightly. "Before I take you over my knee."

Dean laughed and began to make his way down the corridor. "You blush just like Sammy," he called over his shoulder. "Just like a girl."

**Coming Back to Sam**

Sam shrugged his book bag higher on his shoulder and shoving his hands in his pockets he began the trudge home. He was later than usual as he had supervised an after school activity. He enjoyed being with the children teaching them something he loved, chess, but he couldn't help glancing at the clock wanting to be with Dean in their home.

As Sam walked his thoughts strayed to their new life. He loved it. He didn't miss hunting one bit and loved his new teaching job. The children made it so worthwhile and he was studying hard at nights to gain his Teacher's Certificate.

Sam was happy but he was worried sick about Dean. He knew his brother was miserable and finding it difficult to come to terms with his blindness. A dark shroud seemed to surround his brother isolating him from the world and the people that loved him and Sam was terrified that he would lose Dean. He loved him so much it hurt sometimes and knowing that Dean was miserable made him unhappy. He couldn't help thinking that he was somehow failing his brother. All his life Dean had taken care of him and made him feel safe. Dean had chased away his nightmares as a child and adult, punched the children who made fun of him, carried him high on his shoulders and kissed his grazed knees. And Sam wanted it to be his turn to take care of Dean, give him back a small degree of what Dean had given him all his life - a safe haven.

Sam sighed to himself. Apart from the blindness Dean's other visible injuries had gradually faded and healed but the hidden from view internal injuries tormented his brother. The brain injury that caused the seizures, the headaches and the stuttering Dean continued to battle on a daily basis. Sam was glad that the doctor that Jim had organised had finally sorted out Dean's medication and although he would never admit he suspected that his brother liked his new doctor. The doctor never treated like an invalid, gave good sound advice and was patient with Dean even when his brother was his usual loveable hostile self. Sam knew that Dean was terrified by the seizures and he hated losing control. But the new medication seemed to be working and Dean had been free of fits for over a month.

Dean seemed to have withdrawn within himself keeping both himself and Pastor Jim at arm's length. He had become quieter his old energy and enthusiasm for life seeming to have deserted him. The old snarky Dean was hidden beneath the surface and emerged every now and again but he was usually angry and yelling at Sam for some reason. Sam missed the sarcastic humour and teasing and he wanted his snarky pig-headed brother back not the always angry and miserable brother he had now. Dean was slowly sinking into a deep depression and Sam knew that Dean was desperately unhappy and frustrated at his inability to sometimes to carry out the simplest task. Sam was losing Dean and it terrified him making him feel lonely and desolate.

They never spoke of his attack or the final battle with the demon. Sam didn't know what had happened but had demanded some answers from his father. It had taken some yelling and shouting but finally his father had filled in a few blanks but Sam sensed that his father was leaving out important details. It was Bobby who finally filled in the rest, told him the real story. Dean had been beaten and kicked unconscious by the demon's thugs trying to save his father from the demon because John had insisted taking on the demon before the other hunters had arrived. His father had continued to battle the demon ignoring his elder son's screams. Bobby and Joshua had finally burst in and dragged Dean out. Then with ten other hunters they had jointly destroyed the demon and all of its followers. Sam had listened with rising horror to the story his guilt nearly choking him. He had then run down the corridor to the nearest bathroom and thrown up everything he had eaten in the past day.

Dean had no memory of his assault or of the events leading up to it, and Sam was glad but most nights his brother woke from terrible nightmares crying out in terror and shaking uncontrollably. Sam always felt so helpless and wondered if this is how Dean felt when he used to have nightmares. He loved his brother and all he could do was hold Dean whispering soothing words until he dropped into an exhausted sleep. After a week of nightmares, Sam couldn't bear it any more and coaxed his brother into his room and bed and held him tight until Dean fell asleep. After that night they continued to share a bed. Still did, but not sexually. They never acknowledged the fact, never spoke of it and Sam always left it up to Dean to decide. But each night without fail Dean would appear at his door dressed for bed nervously shifting from foot to foot. Sam always invited him into the room and his bed with soft encouraging words holding the comforter up, as Dean had for him as a child, letting his brother snuggle in beside him. They both seemed to draw comfort from the closeness and Sam had no intention of letting it go.

Sam turned his thoughts away from Dean for a moment to go over in his head what he had gotten out of the freezer ready for him to cook for their meal night. He took a deep breath wondering what mood Dean would be in. His brother's moods were unpredictable and Sam was always careful before saying something that might set Dean off. Putting his hand on the door knob Sam hesitated on the steps sniffing the air - he thought he could smell cooking coming from inside the house.

Sam stepped cautiously into the house flipping on the light switch as he dumped his bag on the floor. "Dean," he called. He hadn't been wrong he could definitely smell cooking coming from their kitchen and wondered if Jim had come to cook them dinner.

Dean hurried towards him. "Sammy," he smiled moving across the room confidently never tripping or colliding with any furniture or object in his path. It always amazed Sam and he couldn't help watching Dean. "I forgot the light again didn't I?" Dean said with a small frown.

"Just think of the electricity we're saving," Sam joked not wanting to spoil Dean's apparent good mood. Dean's frown turned to a small smile as he helped Sam off with his coat and scarf hanging it carefully on the hook by the door. Sam narrowed his eyes studying his brother for a moment. Dean looked genuinely happy and his characteristic energy seemed to have returned.

"I hope you're hungry," Dean said eagerly. "I cooked."

"You cooked?" Sam couldn't hide the surprise from his voice. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

"I can cook," Dean frowned slightly hearing the surprised tone in his brother's voice. Dean knew that he had a lot of making up to do. He owed Sam so much and hoped it wasn't too late. "Perhaps better than you even with these useless eyes."

"I know," Sam softly. Dean had always been a better cook than him. Dean was creative in the kitchen using a bit of this and bit of that and would never dream of using a recipe book. Because of Dean, Sam had never been in danger of starving as a child. "But how?"

"I knew that you.... who I have said on many occasions is Mr Predictable... would have left all the stuff out ready," Dean smirked. "It kinda took all afternoon because .... well I couldn't see what I was doing," he gave a small shrug. "And burned my hand a couple of times but I got there in the end," he waved his fingers at Sam. "But hey look ten fingers." He gave Sam a grin. "So you don't have to worry about finding one in your dinner."

Sam laughed. "Thank you," he said sarcastically. "What did you make?" he asked suddenly curious.

"A stew. Fried up the meat. That was burn number one," Dean grimaced. "Then just kinda threw everything you left out in the pot. Added a few herbs and other stuff," Dean shrugged slightly. "It should be OK."

"It smells great," Sam said enthusiastically.

"Well....sit your ass down. It won't be long," Dean waved at the table that was littered with plates, cutlery, glasses and cups. The coffee pot was bubbling on the kitchen counter. Sam decided not to tell his brother that the table cloth was on the wrong way with the bold pattern facing downwards. Dean moved around the kitchen with a buoyancy Sam hadn't seen for a while and for Dean the kitchen looked very tidy. Usually when Dean had cooked in the past the kitchen looked like a war zone and Sam guessed that the tidiness was down to Dean having to be a bit more organised so he could find things easily.

Sam slumped down at the table a puzzled expression on his face. The old Dean seemed to be back and Sam could help grinning happily. Pastor Jim had promised to try and talk to Dean and Sam wondered if this is what had brought on the sudden change in his brother. It made him slightly jealous that it had been the Pastor that had finally gotten through to his stubborn brother, but he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. His Dean was coming back to him and he wasn't going to risk losing him ever again.

"What are you grinning at?" Dean turned towards the oven.

"You," Sam replied. He had long ago given up asking Dean how he knew what he was doing or knowing exactly expression he had on his face. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah," Dean turned back to him an earnest expression on his face. He needed Sam to know. His blind eyes sought and found Sam easily. "A little girl told me I was brave this morning," Dean said. "Except I know I aint been brave. I've just been a royal pain in the ass. Feeling sorry for myself . So I sorta decided to put that right starting with dinner."

"I see," Sam nodded still confused at the change in his brother and wondered when Dean had met a little girl deciding to save the question for later. "Can I help with anything?" he asked suddenly feeling useless in the kitchen.

"No. I got it," Dean said turning back to the small oven. He paused and patted his hands across the kitchen counter. He turned back to Sam. "The damn oven gloves have hidden themselves again," he gave Sam a small smile.

Sam jumped to his feet happy to be able to help. He snatched the gloves off the table and pressed them into Dean's hand. Dean grinned a thank you and turned back to the oven. Sam sat back down at the table and silently watched his brother. Fumbling with the door Dean felt for the casserole dish. Kicking the door shut with his foot Dean turned and carefully walked towards the table. Sam smiled to himself as he noticed Dean counting out his steps to the table. Dean placed the dish on the table quickly removing the lid. "Tada," Dean smirked.

Sam leaned forward sniffing. "It looks good," he said as he carefully served two plates of stew pushing one of the plates towards Dean's place setting.

Dean sat opposite him after placing a bowl of mashed potatoes and corn as well as some uneven and thickly sliced bread in the middle of the table. "Of course it does," he said cockily. "And I think I got all the lumps outta the mashed potato," he said with a frown. "But you know....," he waved a hand at his eyes and shrugged.

"You did," Sam said impressed as he had never managed to make lump-free mashed potato. Dean gave him a pleased smile as he felt for and found his cutlery. Sam silently served them each some potatoes and corn and cautiously tasted the stew suppressing a chuckle. "I see you found the salt pot Dean," Sam said taking a sip of water.

"Damn. Thought I'd put too much in. Just kinda hoped that the herbs would cover the taste," he sighed heavily. "Guess I'll have to practice some more," Dean whispered sadly not able to disguise the disappointment in his voice. "Sorry Sammy. It was meant.... meant to be a thank you for putting up with my sorry ass."

Dean slid his hand across the table to retrieve his brother's plate but Sam seized the hand enclosing it in his own. "Dude. It's just the way I like my stew," Sam squeezed Dean's hand in reassurance and was rewarded with a bright smile, which made his heart lurch with love.

"Really?" Dean asked still doubtful.

"Yes really Dean," Sam assured his brother squeezing his hand again.

"OK," Dean pushed the plate of bread towards Sam. "This might help with the salty taste," he grinned warmly.

"Thanks," Sam replied.

The brothers ate their meal in companionable silence. "Sammy?" Dean looked towards his brother.

"Mmmm," Sam murmured as he poured them both a cup of coffee.

"Can you ... I mean can you help me organise the cupboards and the kitchen so I can cook again?" he asked. "So I can..... can find things easier. I spent half the afternoon looking for stuff that was right under my nose."

"Oh Dean," Sam's voice wavered with emotion at Dean's last statement.

"Don't Sammy," Dean interrupted. "Just help me organise stuff. OK?"

Sam stared at his brother for a moment. Dean looked so hopeful and so determined and Sam never ceased to be amazed that even blind Dean's eyes still gave away all his inner emotions. "OK," he said finally. "Of course I'll help you. You only had to ask Dean."

A knock at the door interrupted Dean's reply. "I'll get it," Sam said standing and moving towards the door. "Hi Jim," he said ushering the older man into the living room settling him into one of the large armchairs. "Coffee?"

"No thanks," Jim shook his head. "Hello Dean," he smiled as his friend wandered into the living room. "I decided to visit instead of call you." Jim hoped that he had kept the anxiety out of his voice having spent all afternoon worrying that he may have pushed Dean too far. Restless at home, Jim had decided to visit the boys instead of calling knowing that Dean was a master at hiding his emotions and he needed to see him face to face to make sure everything was OK. Jim was pleased to see that both Sam and Dean looked happy and calm.

"Hey Jim," Dean smiled back in the direction of her voice. He slumped next to Sam on the couch.

"Dean cooked a stew today," Sam couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Did he now?" Jim said softly. "If I remember rightly Dean was always the better cook out of you two. You," he pointed at Sam. "Had trouble boiling an egg some days." Sam nodded as he rolled his eyes and Jim smiled at the younger man.

"It was too salty," Dean cut in.

"I liked it," Sam retorted stubbornly glaring at his brother.

"Don't glare Sammy," Dean chastised. "You're boring holes in my head." Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother. Dean shook his head in exasperation. "What are you five?" he grinned. Sam stuck his tongue out again before slouching back on the couch pouting.

Jim looked down concentrating on his hands trying his best not to laugh at his favourite two boys but it was so good to hear them teasing each other again. "Did Dean tell you what he got up to this morning?" Jim asked Sam.

Sam looked from Dean to Jim and back again. "No," he frowned. Dean was ignoring him and studiously looking downwards absently picking at his jeans.

Jim sighed. It was obvious that Dean wasn't going to tell Sam. Jim looked towards Sam. "Dean came with me to the school this morning. And told the younger children in Miss Miller's class a story about two brother bears and their adventure with a friendly ghost."

"You told them about our teddies Sandy and Dinky?" Sam looked at his brother.

Dean snorted. "They always were lame names. Knew I shouldn't have let you pick them," he teased. "But Dinky the older bear was always the coolest and Sandy was...... well the geeky one."

"I was five," Sam protested with a scowl. "And I loved them stories," he said with a fond smile remembering how he had curled up close to Dean listening as his brother made the stories up for him.

"You always used to whine at bedtime until I told you one," Dean smirked. "You were always whiney as a kid."

"Was not," Sam sulked.

"He was a big hit with the children," Jim interrupted loudly before he had to break up a full scale argument between the brothers. "And as Dean was such a hit they insisted on making you a present as a thank you."

Jim produced a very large folded piece of paper from his battered holdall. He laid it out on the coffee table. Dean leaned forward and Sam guided his hand towards the gift. Dean touched the paper lightly with his fingers. He could feel stones of differing textures and sizes, some wrinkled dried leaves, something that felt like ribbon, some other textured materials and paint that had been applied so thickly he could feel the bold brush strokes.

"Wow... it's so cool," Dean breathed. "Is it colourful Sammy?"

"Oh Dean. It's beautiful," Sam replied. "It has a rainbow painted at the top in bright colours. And your name is just here," Sam moved his brother's fingers to some small stones that had been glued untidily spelling out Dean's name. And there's two teddy bears here," he moved Dean's fingers to where two bears made out of furry material had been stuck. They were holding hands and one was wearing sunglasses.

Dean looked towards Jim. "Thank you Jim. It's great. Will you thank the children for me?" he asked.

"You could do it yourself," Jim replied as he leant forward slightly. He looked up winking at Sam. "Come to the school on Friday morning. The children want to hear another story. And they have spent the afternoon writing you a small story."

"But...I can't," Dean started to protest.

"Can't what? Read the stories," Jim interrupted. "You don't have to. They want to read their stories to you. Miss Miller and I explained to them what is like to be blind. So each child has written about something you can no longer see so you won't forget what it looks like." He smiled and winked at Sam. " So what do you say?"

Dean glanced sideways at Sam who had been quietly watching his brother. "What do you think Sammy?" he asked doubt clouding his voice.

"We do painting on Friday," Jim added. ""You could practice your skills as you volunteered to paint my house in the summer." He smirked at the glare Dean shot him.

"I think you should say yes," Sam agreed with Jim. "You obviously enjoyed the morning and the children want you to visit again."

Jim slowly pulled himself to his feet. "That's settled then," he decided before Dean could change his mind. "The children and I will see you at eleven on Friday," he said.

"OK," Dean agreed as Sam showed Jim to the door.

Closing the door Sam turned back to his brother. Dean had his fingers splayed over his gift and Sam watched as he moved his fingers gently over the paper feeling and exploring the differing textures. "It's great isn't it?" Sam slumped next to Dean. "Jim just told me that it was kids' idea to make you the picture with all the different stuff on it so you could feel it."

Dean had a lump in his throat. He couldn't believe that the children had sent him such a beautiful and thoughtful gift. And he couldn't help feeling a little bit excited about his next visit to the school. Suddenly his world didn't seem so dark and lonely any more and for the first time since the final battle with the demon, his heart felt lighter and Dean allowed himself to feel a little more hopeful about the future. The little girl telling him that she thought he was brave had startled him out his self imposed misery, made him think about how he had been acting. He had been pushing the people that loved him away afraid that they stayed with him out of pity and duty. He'd been so stupid and wrapped up in his own gloom and despondency concentrating on what he had lost instead of what he had found. And he knew he had so much. They loved him and he loved them. They didn't see him as a useless blind man like his father did. They just saw Dean Winchester, their friend, their brother and he decided there and then to prove that their faith and love wasn't misplaced.

"You OK?" Sam asked concerned at his brother's quietness.

Dean choked but nodded. He took a deep breath steeling himself. First thing on his list was to make Sam understand. "I...... I've felt so useless just recently. I thought my life was..... was over," he murmured. "I didn't think anyone would want me ever....ever again. It's been so dark and lonely. But Pastor Jim made me see."

"I'm glad Pastor Jim helped," Sam interrupted. "I...," he started to say.

"Sam," Dean waved a hand at his brother. "Trying to have a chick flick moment here."

"Wow," Sam couldn't help quipping. A glare from Dean shut him up.

Dean took a deep breath. "Yeah Pastor Jim did help. Gave me a shove in the right direction. Probably," he nudged his brother's shoulder with his own. "Because you were....." Dean shook his head lost for words.

"I was too scared," Sam admitted quietly helping his brother. "I was scared that if I pushed too hard you'd up and leave.... and... and I couldn't bear that," he finished.

Dean nodded in understanding. "Jim kicked my ass good. But it was you. You got me here. You took care of me. Chased away the nightmares. You who wouldn't let me give up even though I was mean.... mean to you. Sammy you rescued me when D-ddad," Dean paused to get himself under control. "When Dad just dumped me. I was afraid to reach..... reach out," he ran his hand through his hair nervously. "I don't know how Sammy," Dean turned to face his brother his expression earnest pleading with Sam to understand what he was trying to say. "But I.... I kinda feel like the light came back on today. Or may be it was there all the time and I was just too hard-headed and stupid to see it." Dean turned away from his brother so he could get his ragged emotions under control.

Sam bit his lip at his brother's anxious admission. "Dean. You have never been alone. And you are wanted. You have always been wanted and needed." Dean turned his face towards his brother. "By..... by me," Sam said hesitantly. He reached up and touched Dean's face rubbing a long finger over his brother's cheek.

Dean pulled away from Sam unsure. "You want me? But I can't..... can't see. You're so perfect, and I'm so....," he started to say but Sam silenced him with a finger on his lips.

"Dean. You are beautiful to me. You always have been. You always will be," he stuttered feeling bolder. Sam had denied his feelings for so long but he was determined to tell his brother how much he loved him. "I have wanted you. Needed you since the day you came to get me at Stanford. And probably before that too. And you not seeing me. It's really not important. All that is important is that I..... I love you Dean," he said.

"You love me?" Dean asked hope and fear mixed in his voice not being able to believe what he was hearing.

He felt his brother nod his head. "Come back to me," Sam whispered. "I need you."

"Sammy. I need you and I have loved you for so long. "I nearly told you before.... before the d-ddemon," Dean stuttered nervously. "B-but after... after the attack," he shivered slightly and Sam pulled him close. Dean took a few calming breaths to rid himself of the stammer. "I was afraid you'd ... you'd pity me."

"Dean. I would never pity you," Sam reassured his brother. "I just love you."

"What about.... about," Dean forced the last words out. "We're brothers."

"I don't care. Do you?" Sam asked nervously.

Dean reassured Sam with a shake of his head. "But if we do this, there's no turning back."

"I know," Sam said. "I don't want to turn back. I think we were always meant to be together and we aren't hurting anyone else by loving each other."

"What about the other stuff?" Dean frowned. "The... the fits?"

"I don't care," Sam enunciated each word carefully.

"B-but," Dean persisted. He had to be sure.

"I said I don't care," Sam repeated. "I don't care that you can't see me. I don't care that we're brothers. I don't care about the fits... or the stuttering. I don't care if we never see Dad again. I only care about you," he grabbed Dean's hand and squeezed hard. "Got it?"

"Pushy much," Dean retorted but squeezed Sam's hand back. He shifted slightly turning his face towards Sam. "Can I.....can I touch you?" Dean asked. He felt Sam nod again turning towards him. "I can see you. My way," Dean moved his hands towards Sam's face.

Dean took Sam's face with both hands. He then gently passed his fingers over the surface of his brother's face memorising each line and curve. His fingers softly traced their way upwards towards Sam's forehead running his finger tips through the hair covering Sam's forehead. Sweeping his fingers outwards Dean mapped out a path to his brother's ears trailing a finger idly over the shape of the ear and lobe. Next Dean's fingers moved across Sam's cheeks softly caressing feeling the warmth in the skin. "You blush like a girl," Dean teased as he explored the shape of Sam's nose curving his fingers upwards carefully touching the now closed eyelids. Sam sighed quietly and Dean smiled. Abandoning Sam's eyelids Dean moved his finger tips downwards softly tracing the line of Sam's lips. Sam's lips curved into a small smile as Dean's fingers brushed over them. Still moving down slowly Dean then brushed lightly over the solid chin feeling the day's stubble.

Dean held Sam's face lightly with the palms of his hands gently massaging his thumbs across Sam's cheeks. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to remember what Sam's face looked like. The memories hit him and he grinned as they seemed to flash before his eyes. Dean knew, at that moment, that he would never again forget the face of his brother, the person he loved most in the whole world. It was etched in his memory forever.

"You're so beautiful," Dean murmured moving closer to Sam. "I love you," he leaned forward and brushed his lips across Sam's. Sam moaned as he leaned into the kiss. His skin was burning tingling with the electricity of Dean's touch and it was almost as though he could still feel his brother's finger tips as they moved across his face. It was the most sensual thing he had ever experienced in his life and it had been gifted to him by his usually hard-as-nails and emotionally closed off brother.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and they kissed passionately their love for each other finally unleashed. Sam pressed his tongue at Dean's lips. Dean opened his mouth and their tongues duelled as they explored the other's mouth.

"Close your eyes," Dean breathed as he pulled back from the kiss. He reached for Sam's hands and placed his brother's long fingers on his own face. Sam smiled and closed his eyes as he gently caressed his finger tips all over Dean's face. In his mind's eye he could see Dean's face, every line and scar and it was almost like he could feel every freckle on his brother's face. Sam continued to trace his fingers over Dean's skin desperate for his brother to feel what he had a moment ago.

Dean sighed at his touch and Sam gave a small satisfied smile. "Make love with me," Dean whispered. "Make the darkness go away."

Sam nodded. He leaned his head against Dean's forehead for a moment. "I love you," he whispered as he pulled Dean to this feet. Wrapping his arms around Dean he captured his mouth again in kiss. His hands caressed up and down Dean's back eliciting a groan. Sam started to walk backwards pulling this brother along with him heading towards what had become their bedroom. They didn't let go of each other as they walked desperate to keep kissing. Sam kicked the door closed behind them.

"Want you," Sam murmured as he began to undress Dean. He whispered in Dean's ear what he was doing as he slowly removed each piece of his brother's clothing. His voice was hoarse with desire and every now and again he blew softly on Dean's skin making his brother shiver with pleasure. Dean stood still one hand absently stroking up and down Sam's arm as his brother undressed him lifting arms and legs when instructed. Sam ran his hands up and down Dean's silky skin marvelling that at long last he was able to intimately touch the body he had craved for so long. Sam rewarded Dean's patience with a long drawn out kiss that had them both moaning with need.

Then Sam guided Dean's hands to his own clothes. He sighed as Dean pushed his shirt off his shoulders and proceeded to lick and suck at each of his collar bones in turn. Dean's tongue traced a wet path up his neck. When he reached Sam's ear he nibbled at the lobe gently. At the same time his hands were busy undoing Sam's jeans pushing them downwards. Suddenly impatient Sam leant down and removed his jeans and underwear in one swift move. Dean whimpered at the loss of contact. The whimper turned into a groan as Sam pulled him close again running his hands over Dean's naked ass.

Standing gloriously naked their clothes discarded in a heap on the floor, they rubbed their bodies against each other revelling in the feel of skin against skin. As the pressed together they could feel the other's erection. Dean hesitantly moved his hand downwards and stroked Sam carefully. He fisted Sam's cock and felt it swelling in his hand. He felt his own cock harden some more and he sighed as he massaged Sam's erection. Sam moaned in appreciation pressing his cock harder against Dean's hand wiggling his hips as he moved.

"I'm gonna touch you," he breathed into Dean's ear as he grasped Dean's hard cock lightly. He rubbed his thumb over the leaking head and up over the velvety skin of Dean's penis. Dean shivered at the sensation as he increased the pressure on Sam's cock and they mutually stroked, massaged and rubbed at each other as they claimed one another's lips taking it in turns to thrust their tongues in the other's mouth.

Sam released Dean's cock and pushed at his brother steering him towards the bed. With a last push they tumbled onto the bed arms and legs entangled. Sam rolled them until he was laying on top of Dean. They writhed against one another enjoying and exploring the new sensations they were evoking.

Considering that touch would be important to this brother Sam gently caressed his hands all over Dean's body. Dean matched him touch for touch and they undulated, rocked and moved against each other intimately. Cocks were lazily caressed, balls massaged between fingers and thumbs, skin was licked and lapped at, nipples were sucked and bellies were rubbed at as they learned and taught the other about their body and its mysteries.

Finally Sam stilled Dean. He kissed him deep before sweeping his tongue gently across Dean's eyelids licking his way down Dean's face towards his neck. He nibbled and sucked at the skin marking Dean as his. His tongue traced a path down Dean's body until he reached his nipples. Dean arched his back off the bed as Sam sucked each nipple into his warm mouth. "Feels good," Dean murmured.

"Good," Sam replied as he moved up his body claiming Dean's lips again in a passionate kiss. His tongue requested and was granted entry and he again explored Dean's warm mouth with his tongue. At the same time he gently pushed Dean's legs apart and comfortably nestled between them. They fit together perfectly as though they had been made for each other. They had.

Dean opened his mouth moaning as Sam licked and sucked at his tongue. At the same time he ran his hands up and down Sam's body feeling the firm muscles of his back and arms. He ran his hands through Sam's hair tangling his fingers in the length. He then moved his hand back between their bodies caressing the silky skin as he moved downwards. Dean gently took Sam's erection in his hand and stroked lightly up and down the hardness. His finger tip explored the slit leaking with precum. Sam gasped in pleasure thrusting his tongue further into Dean's mouth. Sam began to pump his cock into Dean's hand. Sam whimpered as Dean suddenly removed his hand bringing it up once again to caress Sam's face exploring and memorising each inch of his skin with his sensitive finger tips. Sam looked down at his brother. His pale green eyes, although sightless, seemed to sparkle with love and affection for him. Sam moved his hand to caress Dean's face again. "I love you Dean," he whispered knowing that Dean couldn't see the love reflected in his own eyes.

"I know," Dean whispered back. "I can feel it," he ran his finger tips over Sam's cheek, his lips and eyelids. "I don't need to see you to know that you love me."

No words were spoken as the brothers shifted as one thrusting against each other. They set a gentle rhythm at first as they rolled back and forth in the bed tangling their nakedness in the sheets. They whispered to each other as their hands stroked and caressed enjoying the freedom that touch afforded them. They stilled their erotic movements and moved to lay on their sides facing each other. Panting with their exertions their hands continued to restlessly explore the other as they moved closer and closer. Their thrusting become more urgent as they moved towards their climax. As their need grew they pressed even closer to each other. Skin to skin. Lips to lips. Their cocks slid together as they arched against each other moaning in pleasure. The room seemed to echo with their panting. Sam came first pounding desperately against his brother. He cried out Dean's name as he came hard spurting his warm semen over their thighs and bellies. As Sam's semen hit his belly, Dean lost control and matched his brother's pummelling as he came too. His seed joined Sam's between their sweat sheened bodies. Panting each other's names they attempted to prolong the moment as they continued to rub and thrust against each other luxuriating in the last moments of their orgasm. Their lips crashed together desperate not to let the other go. They rolled legs, arms and bodies entwined as one still thrusting and pushing against each other wringing the last sensations of their climax out of the other's body.

Finally exhausted they both sagged into the bed. Dean's hand flailed looking for Sam's hand. Sam grabbed and squeezed Dean's hand and they lay side by side panting trying to get their ragged breathing under control. Sam recovered first. Rolling over he grabbed for his t-shirt and gently wiped their bodies as best he could his mind already looking forward to the shower they could have together later. He lay on his side pulling Dean towards him, his arms wrapped around him protectively. Dean snuggled into the embrace. They lay in silence indulging in each other's company and the afterglow of their love making.

"Dean," Sam nuzzled at his brother's neck.

"Mmmm," Dean replied sleepily. "Sleeping here. Just had mind blowing sex."

"So it was mind blowing huh?" Sam teased with a chuckle.

"Didn't know you had it in you Sammy," Dean teased back.

"I was waiting for the right person," Sam murmured.

"So. Did you find them?" Dean tormented with a small grin.

"I think the sex addled your brain," Sam pulled out of their embrace punching Dean's arm lightly. "I was waiting for you asshole."

"Dude," Dean protested with a squeak. "You hit like a girl." They lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Dean entangled their legs together as he pulled Sam closer revelling in the feeling of his brother in his arms at last. "I was waiting for you too," he whispered in Sam's ear.

"That thing you did with your fingers earlier?" Sam whispered. "When you touched my face."

"You didn't like it?" Dean pulled back from the embrace not able to hide the worry in his voice.

"No. I loved it," Sam reassured pulling Dean back into his embrace. "But..," he was suddenly lost for words.

"My way of seeing you," Dean interrupted. "So get used to it geek boy."

"Oh I intend to," Sam replied.

Dean snorted and rolled close to his brother. "I love you Sammy," he murmured. He leant towards his brother's ear. "Wanna play some more?" Dean whispered not being able to keep the desire out of his voice.

Sam rolled on top of Dean. "You can practice your touching," he said hopefully.

"Now you're talking," Dean claimed Sam's lips in a passionate kiss.

 

**Sam Dean and John**

 

**Three months later .....**

 

Sam stared over the small frozen lake ground marvelling at the scene in front of him. He shaded his eyes against the mid afternoon sun as he gazed into the distance, the vast white blanket of snow stretching before him, its beauty and savagery never ceasing to amaze him. This was the place they had made their home and they both loved it. Snowy white and cold in the winter months and lusciously green and warm in the summer months.

Sam turned his attention to his brother. Dean was sitting on a rock near the edge of the lake and Sam smiled to himself as he watched his brother struggle to tie up the laces of his ice skates.

Sam's smile turned to a frown. Nearly six months had passed since Dean had been blinded permanently in the final battle with the yellow-eyed demon. The tragedy had thrown them together and they had finally found love and strength in each other's arms. Their love surrounded them like an invisible shield protecting them from a world that would never understand or accept their relationship. The town knew them as brothers and they both had agreed to keep it like that and be circumspect with their feelings when out in public. But behind closed doors and away from prying eyes was another matter. Sam loved Dean with all his heart and was surprised that his brother returned his love with a fierceness that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. They still argued and squabbled all the time but underneath their love for each other anchored and made them strong.

Sam had watched and silently encouraged as Dean had struggled to overcome his disability. It had taken a month before his stubborn brother would believe that people weren't judging him by his disability and pitying him. But little by little Dean became more confident in his abilities and started to trust that people liked him for who he was and not out of any sense of pity. At times Sam even forgot that Dean was blind his perceptiveness and awareness of his surroundings never ceased to amaze. Despite the tough-guy and cocky image Dean liked to project, his brother had always been sensitive to people around him and Sam watched as Dean expertly used his innate abilities to help him compensate for not being able to see. As his confidence grew Dean became more involved in the small town and its population and it still surprised Sam that his brother seemed to have adapted to their new life. Hunting became a thing of the past and they rarely talked about it. However Dean did insist on cleaning all of their weapons regularly every two weeks. Sometimes Sam helped him and sometimes Jim helped. The hardest thing had been the Impala. He knew it hurt Dean not to be able to drive the Impala and it had taken Sam two months to persuade Dean to even go near his beloved car but eventually his persistence had won through and now Dean lovingly cleaned and polished his baby every week. And Sam had made a silent promise to himself that during the summer he would drive them somewhere, away from everyone and everything, and let Dean get behind the wheel again. He knew it was illegal but he didn't care - Dean needed it.

Pastor Jim had been their saviour being more than just a friend to them both. In an effort to keep Dean occupied he had involved his brother in some of his church activities refusing to let Dean sink back into depression. Dean loved helping Jim. It gave him something to focus on and the activities involving the children were his favourite and he would come home exhausted but full of stories about what he had been doing. His second favourite activity was tagging along with Jim when he visited some of his elderly house-bound flock. Jim had told him that Dean was a natural and just sat and listened to the stories the older members of the congregation loved to tell over and over.

Dean would never be a choir boy but his enthusiasm and boyish sense of humour made up for his lack of church etiquette and he had won over most of Jim's flock with his easy and laid back manner. He refused to attend the church services but Jim didn't seem to mind glad to have the help with his other activities. Even the Bishop who visited Jim every month had taken a liking to his brother and spent hours discussing classic cars and music with him.

 Dean, of course, had also charmed every member of the Womens' Institute without exception and the ladies fussed around him, and their freezer was always full with dishes they had baked. Dean even had his own regular story telling session with the younger children at the school and their kitchen cupboards were adorned with the pictures that the children had created for his brother. The children loved his brother and Dean found himself on the invitation list for birthday parties much to his embarrassment and Sam's amusement. Dean also keep a small folder of all the stories the children had ever written for him and sometimes would ask Sam to read them to him.

Dean had surprised Sam. Sam would never have associated his brother with the activities he helped Jim with, but guessed that Dean was forcing himself to make the necessary changes in his life to make up for his blindness. In truth they both knew what Dean was doing but never voiced it out loud. Dean was filling his time to distract himself from his blindness and the fact that he had never really come to terms with his disability.

Dean also kept their home relatively Dean-like tidy. Sam smiled to himself - dust was his friend was among Dean's favourite sayings. But Sam didn't care. They had never really had a proper home and although they wouldn't admit it to each other, they were both determined to make their little house as homely and comfortable as they could. When they had first moved into the house Sam had organised all of the furniture in specific places and insisted that Dean learn the position of everything. Nothing was ever moved so that Dean could find his way around their home without tripping or knocking into anything. It gave him more much-needed independence. After the first meal he had cooked for them Dean had insisted on being responsible for their meals and spent hours in the kitchen concocting dishes for them. Dean hated the quiet and filled their house with his music just like he had the Impala. It was another distraction and Sam suffered the loud music for his brother's sake. Dean seemed content in their new life and that in turn made Sam happy. Sam loved Dean so much that he couldn't imagine his life without his brother and he knew that Dean felt the same.

They both kept fit by walking in the hills near their home and ran together at the weekends. They had even tried cycling but had given up when he had scraped his elbows, arms, knees and legs falling off the bike much to Dean's amusement, something that he would never let Sam live down. Dean's health was relatively good although he still suffered from the headaches when he was over-tired and the seizures were persistent although the doctor had assured them that due to the nature of Dean's brain injury it wasn't uncommon for the fits to surface from time to time especially when he was over-tired. Both his worry and Dean's fear over the fits had lessened during the past few months and they coped, as they always did, together. He was startled out of his reverie by Dean calling his name.

"Hey Sammy. Do you think you could get your ass over here and give me a hand?" Dean demanded with a smile. "These things are driving me nuts. And I'm all fingers and thumbs today."

"Do you think this is a good idea Dean?" Sam asked kneeling in front of his brother and taking the laces and tying them tightly.

Dean turned his sightless eyes up towards Sam grinning. "Scared you're gonna fall on your ass Sammy," he teased. "I'll kiss your knees better if you do."

"You won't let me forget about the bikes will you?" Sam rolled his eyes even though he knew his brother couldn't see him.

"Hell no," Dean replied with a grin. "You were the one who could see where we were going and you fell off.... twice," he laughed. "And I wanna do this," Dean continued stubbornly.

"It'll be dark soon," Sam said automatically. He immediately cursed himself for his foolish slip.

"It's dark all the time for me," Dean said without bitterness. "I won't let you fall over in the dark," he reached out running his hand softly down Sam's face. "OK?" he gave Sam a smile.

Sam studied his brother. The brightness of his smile couldn't hide the lines of exhaustion etched on his face and the dark circles under his eyes. For the last month Dean had been tormented even more by terrible nightmares. He woke most nights, sometimes twice and three times, screaming in terror, soaked in sweat and trembling with fear. Sam felt helpless. All he had been able to do was hold Dean tight soothing him with calming words until the terror of the dream faded and Dean fell asleep in his arms.

"Dean," Sam said stroking his brother's face.

Dean took hold of Sam's fingers in his hand kissing them lightly. He could hear the concern in his brother's voice and knew he was worried about him. "I'm good Sammy," he said. "Don't worry so much."

Sam knew it was useless to argue with his brother when he was being stubborn. He leant forward not being able to resist kissing Dean on the nose. "OK," he smirked at the disgusted face Dean pulled.

"Girl," Dean accused as he let Sam haul him to his feet.

Sam led Dean towards the edge of the lake. Sam stepped onto the ice first. Getting his balance he encouraged Dean forwards. "One more step," he said as he held both his brother's hands tightly. Dean cautiously stepped onto the ice grinning widely. He wobbled slightly but Sam held on tight keeping them both standing upright. Slowly Sam started to skate backwards pulling Dean along after him.

"Dude. This is great," Dean grinned his pale eyes shining as he moved one foot in front of the other. Sam grinned back slowly picking up speed as he guided his brother around the small lake. After three laps Sam brought them to a halt. Dean shook his hands free of Sam. "Let me go solo," he pleaded. "Talk to me. I'll follow your voice."

"Dean," Sam started to protest.

Dean stared in the direction of his brother's voice. "Please Sammy," he begged. "It's no difference to when we run together."

Sam regarded his brother for a moment. His face was flushed and he was beaming happily. "OK Dean. But if you fall on your stupid ass don't blame me."

Dean scowled at Sam. "If I do you can kiss it better," he waggled his eyes seductively.

"You're impossible," Sam said exasperated.

"But you love me anyway," Dean smirked as he started to move forwards slowly his arms outstretched in front of him. "Cat got your tongue geek boy?" Dean teased as he began to pick up speed.

Sam sighed in loving exasperation at his determined hard-headed brother. He pushed off from the side of the lake. He smirked to himself as he started to skate backwards just in front of his brother. Sam began to recite the words to a song he hadn't been able to get out of his head recently. He kept a careful eye on his brother but knew that Dean would follow the direction of his voice easily.

"When darkness falls upon your heart and soul," Sam began. "I'll be the light that shines for you. When you forget how beautiful you are. I'll be there to remind you. When you can't find your way. I'll find my way to you."

Dean stopped in his tracks his hands on his hips. He cocked his head to one side. "Sammy," he scowled interrupting his brother's recital.

Sam stopped skating. Reaching forward he traced his fingers up Dean's face. "But you told me to talk Dean," he replied using his best innocent voice.

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. "You are such a girl," he accused affectionately as he started forwards again. "For God's sake whatever you do don't sing," he teased. "I've heard you in the shower and it aint pretty."

"Skating or standing?" Sam asked as he skated around his brother. As he skated around he leaned in close and blew on Dean's skin. Dean shivered and Sam laughed lightly. Dean started to skate forwards again. Sam moved in front of his brother and began his recital again. "And when you're there with no-one there to hold. I'll be the arms that reach for you. And when you feel your faith is running low. I'll be there to believe in you."

Dean skated forwards in the direction of Sam's voice. He'd never admit to Sam but he loved to hear his brother speak. Sam liked to read to him and it had become a habit to spend winter evenings curled up on their couch with one of Sam's precious books. Dean moved closer to the soft voice sensing that Sam had stopped in front of him. Reaching out Dean grasped Sam's arms pulling himself towards the warm body. He wobbled slightly but Sam steadied him. "I love you," he whispered as he claimed Sam's lips wrapping his arms around his body. Sam readily returned the embrace eagerly leaning into the kiss deepening it gently. "Reba McEntire. Right?" Dean said grinning as he pulled back. "Never had you down for a fan." "I like her," Sam pouted. "Sammy likes country music," Dean teased in a sing-song voice. He skated backwards away from his brother.

"Dean," Sam shouted a warning too late as he skated forwards grabbing for Dean as his brother hit the edge of the lake with his skates and fell backwards into a snow bank pulling Sam on top of him. Dean was laughing uncontrollably as the brothers collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs. 

"You only had to ask," Dean quipped as he claimed a quick kiss from Sam. "You didn't have to shove me." 

Sam blushed bright red despite himself. "Dean," he scolded. "I didn't push...," he started to say but was silenced by his brother kissing him hard again. He moaned as Dean slipped his tongue into his mouth exploring. Sam returned the kiss pressing his body against Dean's grinding their hips together.

"Wanna fool around?" Dean offered as Sam kissed down his face and neck. Sam moaned nodding his head. Untangling their legs Sam got to his feet hauling Dean upwards. Grabbing their boots Sam clasped Dean's hand and started to lead him back to their home. Once inside the house they helped each other out of their coats and boots. Before Sam could turn to hang up their coats Dean had grabbed him around the waist drawing him close. Sam dropped the coats to the floor as Dean claimed his lips hungrily running his tongue along his brother's bottom lip. Sam moaned opening his mouth and Dean slipped his tongue inside exploring the now familiar territory. Sam groaned in pleasure as Dean sucked on his tongue. The brothers came up for air at the same time and held each other tightly as they caressed one another with their hands. "Bed now," Dean murmured into Sam's mouth as he dragged his brother towards their bedroom.

With practised hands they slowly removed each other's clothes discarding them on the floor. Their hands never left each other's body as they touched, stroked and rubbed at the other's naked skin. Dean pushed Sam towards their bed. Tumbling onto the bed they automatically tangled their legs together as they rolled over and over fighting for dominance writhing and grinding against the other as their hands caressed and stroked at one another's nakedness. They moaned in unison as they captured each other's lips kissing hard and deep.

Dean let Sam win their battle. Sam straddled his brother. Leaning forwards he ran his tongue up and down Dean's face and neck. Sam sucked hard at Dean's shoulder marking him. Sam flicked his tongue out over and over lapping at the mark soothingly. Dean ran his hands through Sam's hair down his neck and caressed his back rubbing small circles as Sam licked at his nipples. Dean rolled them until they were laying face to face. "I love you," he whispered his breath hot on Sam's skin as he ran a finger idly along his brother's shoulder, down his arm to his waist, tracing a path over his hip, thigh and legs. "So much," he said as he traced his finger back up along Sam's body. Sam smiled to himself as Dean began to run his hands up and down his body and he knew that his brother was imagining in his head every line, bump and muscle of his body.

"You mean everything to me and I love you," Sam murmured as he pulled Dean closer claiming his lips in a gentle kiss. Dean leaned into the kiss deepening it and they rubbed against each other moaning in ecstasy as their cocks moved against each other. Dean pushed Sam over onto his back straddling him. He leant forward claiming Sam's lips thrusting his tongue into the warmness. Sam sucked on his brother's tongue his hands caressing Dean's back and ass. They moved against each other revelling in the feeling of their cocks hardening and thickening with each movement.

Breaking the kiss, Sam whispered into Dean's ear making his brother groan with need. Bringing his fingers to his lips Sam licked them thoroughly. Dean relaxed his whole body as he felt one of Sam's fingers slowly circle his hole before penetrating his body. He moaned encouragement as Sam slowly added a second and third finger and thrust them in and out. Dean whimpered as Sam removed his fingers. Leaning forward he kissed Sam again. Sam wriggled propping his back up slightly with the pillows as Dean's hand moved between them taking his penis in his hand. Guiding Sam Dean placed the hard cock at his opening. With a sigh Dean sunk down impaling himself on his lover's cock. Sam grunted in pleasure as he entered Dean's body. They both cried out softly loving the intimacy that their sexual joining gave them both. Thrusting his hips upwards carefully Sam drove his cock deeper into the body he loved. He rested his hands on Dean's thighs to help his brother balance. Leaning forward slightly Dean took Sam's face in his hands caressing gently seeing his brother's face with touch as he rocked on Sam's hardness. Sam reached up pulling Dean closer so he could claim his lips sucking and nipping as his tongue demanded entry. Sam thoroughly explored Dean's mouth again. Sam whimpered and Dean chuckled as he pulled away from the kiss. Straightening up Dean threw his head back his lips slightly parted in rapture as he moved himself up and down on Sam's hardness. Taking hold of his own cock Dean stroked and rubbed the length in tandem with his movements. Sam watched enthralled as his cock disappeared into Dean's body over and over. Sam thought it was the most erotic thing he had ever seen and he groaned again. Taking hold of Dean's free hand Sam moved it between their bodies so that his brother could feel his cock moving in out of his body. Dean grinned down at him and groaned at the sensation throwing his head back again.

Sam brought his hand up and pushed Dean's hand away from his cock. He squeezed and massaged gently evoking soft pleased murmurs from Dean. Sam thrust his hips upwards propelling his penis deeper and deeper into Dean's body. At the same time he ran his thumb over the head of Dean's cock squeezing the hardness with his hand. Dean groaned as Sam's penis rubbed his prostate over and over. Sam massaged Dean's balls before running a hand up and down his silky hardness. He twisted his hand as he ran his thumb again over the sensitive head of Dean's cock. "Come for me Dean," he whispered. Dean cried out Sam's name as he came long and hard spurting his semen over Sam's hand and belly. Dean panted as his orgasm overtook him and he tried to get his breathing under control as his climax abated.

With his cock still inside his brother Sam flipped Dean onto his back. Dean spread his legs as wide as he could drawing one knee upwards to allow Sam easier entry to his ass. Sam groaned again as he pumped in and out of Dean watching his length disappear into his brother. Dean caressed his back encouraging him murmuring his name. "Come inside me Sammy," he sighed as he arched his back against the sensations coursing through his body. He lifted his hips thrusting upwards as Sam drove his cock inside him again. Sam was breathing heavily concentrating on the feeling of Dean tightening around his hardness. Dean was repeating his name over and over as they moved in synchronicity. Sam felt his balls begin to tighten and his rhythm faltered slightly as he propelled his cock deep inside Dean releasing his seed with a loud cry. He squeezed his eyes tight as his cock pulsed his release into Dean's body.

Dean hummed in pleasure as he felt the warm release filling him. He hooked both his feet around Sam's back pulling his brother closer as Sam continued to thrust inside him in the final throes of his orgasm. Breathing heavily Sam slumped forwards onto his brother kissing him hard. Dean kissed Sam back as he relaxed his spread legs. Sam carefully withdrew his softening cock from Dean's body. Rolling off his brother and onto his side Sam pulled Dean into a tight hug showering loving kisses all over his face. Dean laughed lightly but snuggled into Sam's embrace and closed his eyes.

 

**Two hours later.....**

 

Sam rolled onto his back. He cracked his eyes open peering into the darkness at his brother. Dean was moving his head from side to side mumbling. Sam waited to see if his brother would settle having learned early on that trying to wake Dean could be dangerous and resulted in a black eye on one occasion.

The mumbling was getting steadily getting louder as Dean shifted in his sleep his whole body vibrating as he sunk further into the nightmare. Sam bit his lip as Dean accidentally kicked him in his shin. Dean's movements were getting more frantic and he had thrown one arm up protecting his head the other flailing in the air as if trying to ward off an invisible adversary. "N-nooo," he cried his voice full of terror. "D-dad," he yelled. "Please. Dad help me."

Sam couldn't watch or listen any more. He sat up and took Dean firmly by the shoulders and shook him gently. "Dean," he whispered. "Wake up man." Still immersed in the terror of the dream Dean tried to fight Sam struggling against his hold. One hand struck upwards and Sam dodged the fist coming towards his face. Sam grabbed Dean's hands gently but firmly. "Ssshhh Dean," he murmured. "It's Sam."

Dean continued to struggle against Sam's hold crying out for his father over and over. His eyes snapped open suddenly and Sam could see the fear and panic reflected in them. Taking Dean's hand Sam moved it to his face. "It's Sam," he soothed as he ran his brother's finger tips over his features. "It was just a dream."

"Sammy?" Dean sounded confused but he hesitantly brought his other hand up to Sam's face. He continued to run his fingers over the smooth features feeling reassured by their familiarity. "S-sssam," he choked.

As always after a nightmare Sam noticed that Dean's stutter was present. "Yes it's me," he pacified. "I'm here. You're safe," he ran his hands up and down Dean's arms trying to calm his brother.

"I saw them... them. I s-ssaw th-them," Dean stuttered. "They were p-punching me. K-kicking me. I couldn't g-get away... and D-ddadd couldn't hear me. And it h-hurt s-soo b-bad."

Sam could feel the tremors of his brother's body. "Ssshhh Dean. It's OK," he murmured pulling his trembling brother towards him and wrapping him in his arms. "You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again." He eased them both down onto the bed. He manoeuvred Dean until he had him lying on his side and he was spooned behind him. Moving as close as he could Sam put his arms around Dean and laced their fingers together. He nuzzled at Dean's neck whispering soft words until he felt his brother relax into sleep. But Sam didn't go to sleep. He lay awake knowing that Dean was starting to remember what had happened during the final battle and that was something Sam had dreaded for months.

 

**The next day......**

 

He moved around the house quietly peering into each room getting a feel for his surroundings. The house was relatively tidy and organised with few personal possessions. He had already noted the protection around and in the house, some were obvious and others were more subtle. A small study was cluttered with papers, books and a computer sitting amidst the mess of papers. The kitchen/dining room was tidy. A home baked pie was sitting on one kitchen counter and the ingredients for chilli were laid out on another. He looked around. All of the cupboards were adorned with a variety of pictures painted and drawn by children he guessed. He moved silently into the living room. It was comfortably furnished with a large couch, two easy chairs and a coffee table. A cd unit sat in one corner of the room and a tv sat in the opposite corner. A wall full of shelves held a large cd and cassette tape collection, some more books, a few small ornaments, two teddy bears and some framed photographs. Pictures of Sam. Of Dean. Of Sam and Dean together.

Cautiously he moved along a small hallway. The first bedroom was immaculate with the bed neatly made. There was no sign that the room had ever been used even though the drawers and the closet had clothes in them. He moved through the spacious bathroom into the other bedroom. This room was definitely used. The bed was unmade with the comforter rumpled and heaped at the bottom of the bed. The pillows were bunched up at the head of the bed and from the indentations in the sheets he knew without a doubt that two people slept here together.

His sons had never made their beds even as children and John Winchester glanced around the room recognising small signs that both Sam and Dean shared this room and bed. He shivered slightly not able to get the picture out of his head of his sons having sex with each other.

John moved back into the living room. He couldn't believe that after six months he had found his sons by accident. He admitted guiltily that he had given up searching a month after his argument with Sam. It became obvious to him that his sons didn't want to be found and every lead had turned into a dead end. John had cursed himself several times for training them so well. He gave up searching for them but it hadn't stopped him missing both his sons and hoping that they were safe. But the hunt had been calling him and John had immersed himself in the only thing he knew how to do and had been tracking what he thought was an angry spirit for two months ending up in the hills above the town checking for any signs of his prey. He had nearly choked on his gum when through his binoculars he had spied Sam and Dean skating on the small lake. Something had stopped him calling out to them and he watched them skate around and around the small lake. They had fallen into a snow bank together and John had spat his gum out nearly biting through his tongue as he watched his sons grind against each other in a definite non-brother like way. John had known that this would happen and it took all of his willpower not to race down the hill separate his sons and beat some sense into them.

John had calmed himself and then made his way silently down the hill towards their house. He took up a position away from the house and trained his binoculars on the windows. John felt like a voyeur but persuaded himself that he was justified in spying on his children and was determined to put a stop to their relationship. Through a crack in the curtains John Winchester had watched in horror and silence as his naked sons had rolled and writhed against each other lost in their passion and desire. He hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from them as they took one another to the heights of passion and beyond and John guessed that their relationship wasn't a new thing. His horror grew as he witnessed Sam taking his brother and pushing them both towards climax. John was startled out of his dark thoughts by a familiar sound. John spun around to see a shotgun being racked and pointed at him by his eldest son. John cursed himself. He hadn't heard Dean come into the house.

"It's not nice to break into people's homes," Dean aimed the gun at the intruder. The moment he had stepped through the door Dean had sensed that someone other than Sam was in the house and had grabbed for the emergency shotgun they kept hidden near the door. The gun was concealed in a secret cupboard that looked to everyone else like part of the wall. Dean cocked his head to one side as the intruder moved slightly. He narrowed his eyes tightening his grip on the shotgun. He followed the intruder's movements with the gun. Something was familiar to him. Then it hit him and realised who was standing in front of him. "You're getting sloppy in your old age Dad," Dean smirked.

"You can see?" John moved towards his son a smile on his face.

"No," Dean replied bitterly as he waved the shotgun at John. "Still useless to you in the hunt. But my aim's still good."

John flinched at the harshness of the words staring at his son for a moment. Now that he got a proper look at his son, he could see that Dean was still blind. The sightless pale eyes unsettled him and he shook of the feeling that Dean could see right into his soul. "Guess I deserved that," he shrugged. "But how did you know it was me?" John asked curious.

"I can smell you," Dean answered simply. He could picture the confused look on his father's face. "You're wearing your old leather jacket. Your favourite one. It's a smell I always associate with you. Always have done ever since I was a kid," Dean gave his own small shrug as he made the shotgun safe placing it on the coffee table he knew was in front of him. "And no-one else would let themselves in without an invitation."

John couldn't quite believe his son. He leant forward waving a hand in front of Dean's face. His son didn't flinch at the movement just continued to stare ahead his sightless green eyes glaring at his father. Before John could react Dean moved quickly and caught his father's hand in his own easily. He grinned at his father. "Been done to me a thousand times before," Dean sighed as he released his father's hand. He shrugged off his coat and hung it on the coat hook behind him.

"So how are you son?" John asked not being able to think of anything else to say.

"Fine," Dean replied moving past his father.

"And Sam?" John asked.

"Sam's fine too. We're both fine," Dean answered suddenly irritated. "Why the sudden interest in us both?"

"You're my sons. I'm your father," John answered. "Of course I'm interested and I care about you both."

Dean raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You have a funny way of showing it," he accused. "You wouldn't even let me say goodbye to Sammy."

"I had my reasons," John said. "But that doesn't mean I didn't care about you both."

"Your reasons?" Dean said confused. "What possible reason could you have for not letting me say goodbye to my own brother. I needed that. I begged you to let me see Sammy. But you already had me on that damn bus and outta your life."

"It was for your own good," John reasoned. "The Rehab Centre would have been good for you. You should have gone. They would have looked after you."

"I can take care of myself," Dean shot back.

"I was assured that the staff at the Rehab Centre were experts in their field," John said calmly. "And the doctor at the hospital said your kind of brain injury needed specialised care."

"Well the doctor was wrong," Dean snorted. "Sammy and I do just fine," he snapped.

"You should have gone," John said firmly.

"I didn't need some stupid Rehab Centre and its staff," Dean said quietly. "I just needed my family. And you took that away from me."

John recoiled at the accusation, decided to ignore it and change the subject. "Nice place," he glanced around the room again.

Dean suddenly felt exhausted and he had even admitted to himself on the way home that the last few sleepless night had finally caught up to him. He didn't want to deal with or talk to his father. He had a bad headache and he just wanted to be alone with Sam. Dean sighed. "What are you doing here Dad?" he asked wearily.

John shrugged. "Just passing through."

Dean snorted again. "Yeah right," he answered. "You're hunting something," he accused quietly.

"May be," John hated to admit. He was surprised at his son's perceptiveness and couldn't help being impressed at the way his eldest seemed to be dealing with his disability. May be the doctor at the hospital had been wrong after all. Dean moved around the room with confidence and had handled the shotgun with his usual self-assuredness and John had no doubt whatsoever that Dean wouldn't have missed him.

"No may be about it," Dean glared at his father. "I know you better than you think."

"I thought I knew you," John retorted angrily as the image of his sons having sex unexpectedly popped into his head.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean snapped. "You don't know me at all. You never did. I was just a soldier to you."

"That's not fair," John growled. "The demon changed everything when it killed your mother."

"You killed the demon. It was over," Dean said quietly. "But you still wanted me to be your soldier and do what you wanted. You didn't care what I wanted."

"That's not true," John defended although he knew that it was lie. He looked away from his son guilty forgetting that Dean couldn't see him. But he could see Dean and John couldn't bear to look at his son knowing that he was responsible for the hurt and pain he could see in Dean's blind eyes.

"I just wanted to say goodbye to Sam," Dean said. "But the great John Winchester had to have his way. Just tossed me aside. Like I meant nothing. So he could go off and hunt his demons." Dean clenched and unclenched his fists. He knew he was getting angry, could feel it rising up within him, and was frightened that he would start to stutter in front of his father. "So don't tell me that you know me. Because you don't. And for the record you never ever knew Sam."

The truth hurt John more than he cared to admit. His temper boiled up inside him and he finally gave into his rage. Moving forwards he grabbed Dean by the front of his shirt pulling his son closer. "Up until yesterday I thought I knew you pretty well," he snarled nastily. "But you're right, I don't know you or Sam at all."

"D-dad," Dean stammered caught off guard by his father's strange behaviour. He struggled against John's hold. "W-what th-the h-hell? L-let g-go of m-me" Dean continued to battle to free himself. At the same time he was desperately trying to control his breathing but it was coming out in short pants and he hated himself for showing weakness and for stuttering like an idiot.

Ignoring his son's pleas, John grabbed Dean's arms tightly and shook his son. "Let you go. Let you go," he hissed. "I ought to beat you to within an inch of your life."

"D-ddad," Dean cried as John tightened his grasp around his son's arms. Dean continued to fight against the grip managing to free one arm. He pushed at his father making John stumble backwards. John dropped his hold of Dean momentarily. Kicking out with a foot Dean connected with John's shin. Dean began to back away from his father trying to work out in his head what he had done to make John so angry. John yelped in pain and absently rubbed at his leg. He narrowed his eyes watching as Dean backed away from him confusion showing in his unseeing eyes. He took advantage of Dean not being able to see him and lunged forwards grabbing his son again. He twisted out of Dean's way as his son aimed another kick at his legs. John's anger made him strong and he shook Dean again his fingers painfully tightening around his son's arms.

Dean froze in his father's grip as an image unexpectedly flashed into his mind. He could himself laying on the floor of a warehouse. He couldn't see his father or Sam but several people were crowded around him shouting and they were kicking and punching him. Pain exploded all over his body and Dean closed his eyes against the agony. "D-dad," he cried out not knowing if he was calling out loud or whether it was all part of his vision.

John had lost control of his temper. His fury at finding out that this sons were lovers fuelled his actions and he could only see his sons in bed together naked. "You're disgusting," he shouted at Dean. "I saw you and Sammy doing each other yesterday afternoon. I saw you taking Sam up your ass. What have you got to say for yourself?" he shook Dean again. "You're brothers. It's not natural."

But Dean wasn't listening. Couldn't hear his father. He was lost in his nightmare trying desperately to escape. Reliving the final battle. The pain in his head was unbearable and his vision was blurry. Dean could hear himself crying out for his father begging for help. He could see himself trying to get away from his attackers but they were holding him down. He heard himself cry out for his father again. Then he saw a dark shadow coming towards him and he flinched as something hard that looked like a boot connected with his head. Dean heard himself scream in agony as the boot kicked him a second time. He saw the boot coming towards him again - the last thing he would ever see. His vision faded from blurry to blackness as an excruciating pain blossomed inside his head. "D-dad. Pl-please," he whimpered.

"You ought to burn in hell. Both of you," John continued not realising that his son wasn't answering or responding to him. "I asked you what you have to say for yourself," John demanded angrily. Frustrated at his son's silence he let go of Dean and back-handed him hard across the face.

Dean stumbled slightly but managed to remain on his feet. The slap to his face brought him out of his nightmare and he turned his blind eyes towards his father. His skin stung and he absently rubbed a hand over the area where his father had hit him. Dean's memories were jumbled and he shook his head. But unlike the thousand nightmares before he could remember all of the images clearly in his head. A hundred different emotions washed over Dean and it hit him like a sledgehammer. Dean felt sick. His father, his hero, had left him to be beaten and kicked by the demon's thugs. "You didn't help me. You left me," Dean accused his stutter disappearing.

"What?" John yelled confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You let them beat me," Dean whispered quietly. "Let them kick me in the head over and over. I'm blind because of you. I would have died for you and you didn't care anything for me." Dean could feel the tingling in one of his hands and he flexed his fingers against the sensation. "No. Not now," he cursed silently to himself as the pounding in his head became worse. He closed his eyes trying to will away the now familiar warning signs.

"Dean?" John stepped closer noticing that the colour had drained out of his son's face. "Are you OK?" he asked suddenly feeling guilty for his actions. He went to reach out to Dean.

"Leave me alone," Dean snapped moving backwards. The tingling in his fingers was getting worse. He knew what was coming and even after six months it still terrified him, filling him with a dread that nothing supernatural ever had. "Don't you dare touch me," he managed to snarl at his father. Dean looked towards his father and John could see the tears welling up in his son's eyes. "I hate you," Dean murmured.

"Dean," John protested.

Dean cried out something unintelligible and John watched in horror as his son collapsed to the floor. John couldn't move his legs and watched frozen as his son's body started to convulse violently the moment Dean hit the floor. Dean's legs were rigid but his arms, upper body and head were jerking uncontrollably. Seconds later Dean's legs began to jerk rapidly as well. Dean's whole body shuddered, thrashed and shook violently as the seizure took hold possessing him. John could see blood-stained saliva slipping out of Dean's mouth and his son's face was taking on a bluish tinge.

 John turned slightly as he heard someone behind him. "What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demanded pushing John out of the way. His heart ran cold and he felt sick as his saw his brother on the floor in the throes of what he knew to be a major seizure. "Dean," Sam ran to his brother's side.

 

**After Effects**

 

"You need a lift?" Jim slowed his truck and leant across the seat. "I'm going your way."

"Thanks," Sam shifted his book bag and jumped into the passenger seat slamming the door shut. "You saved me a walk."

"Dean invited me over for dinner," Jim explained. "He said he's making chilli. And I think he even said he had baked an apple pie," he looked sideways at Sam who was staring pensively out of the windscreen. "I hope me coming to dinner is OK."

"Jim," Sam turned towards his friend. "You're always welcome in our home," he smiled at Jim. "And Dean makes a mean chilli.... and apple pie for that matter."

Jim studied Sam out of the corner of his eye as he drove along the street. The younger man was chewing on his lip staring distractedly out of the windscreen again. "You OK Sam?" Jim finally asked. "You seem pretty quiet over there."

"Yeah," Sam replied continuing to stare out of the windscreen. He bit at his lip again for a moment. "I'm worried about Dean," he blurted out as he turned slightly in his seat.

"I kinda thought that was the problem," Jim said. "So what's he done now?"

"Nothing," Sam replied. "He.... I ... just.... oh I don't know," Sam blew out a long breath in frustration.

"Just take it slow," Jim chuckled patting Sam's knee.

"I think he's doing too much," Sam said. "And he's not sleeping very well. He keeps having these terrible nightmares. And I'm.... I'm just worried about him. When I try to talk to him about it he just tells me not to worry but he's had three fits in the last two weeks. So I am worried," Sam finished stubbornly.

"He did look kinda pale and tired when I saw him this morning," Jim agreed. "But he said he was fine when I asked."

"He always says that," Sam replied angrily. "Even when he's not. Stubborn ass."

Jim chuckled again. "I bet it's hell living in your house." He chuckled at Sam's confused look. "Two stubborn asses under the same roof," he explained.

Sam couldn't help a small laugh. "Well it sure makes life interesting," he admitted sheepishly.

"Perhaps you should see the doctor about Dean's fits," Jim suggested. "Get him checked out. Perhaps he needs a change in his medication."

Sam frowned. "I don't think the anti-convulsants are the problem. I think our problem is Dean and his hard-headedness."

"That's a much harder problem to solve," Jim agreed with a small laugh. "And I don't think there's a cure."

"No," Sam shook his head. "You're damn right there."

Jim laughed. "I could drive you both over to the hospital," he volunteered.

"We have a regular appointment next week at the hospital so I figured I could leave it until then," Sam replied. "But thanks for the offer Jim."

"Do you think that's wise?" Jim asked concerned.

"The fits were small ones and he's had them before when he's over-tired," Sam assured. "I think it's OK to wait until next week. And I'm going with him so he can't leave anything out or tell the Dean-truth." He gave Jim a small smile.

"If it would help I could cut back on Dean helping me out," Jim offered.

It was a tempting offer but Sam knew that Dean would hate the idea. "No," he replied reluctantly. "Dean loves helping you out. And I know it sounds stupid but it gives him a reason for getting up in the morning. And he needs that right now," he sighed again. "I just wish he would slow down and rest every now and again. It's like he thinks he's got something to prove."

"Perhaps Dean feels like he has," Jim said soothingly. "Dean may be blind but he wants to be independent. He was a hunter and in his soul he'll always be a hunter but he's also smart enough to know that's not possible any more," Jim paused to see if his young friend was listening. Sam was nodding and Jim smiled to himself. "And he doesn't want to be a burden to anyone. This is just his way of proving that he's OK to everyone. And I suspect especially you."

"But he doesn't have to prove anything to me," Sam protested. "I don't care what he does or doesn't do. I just want him to be happy."

"I know Sam," Jim put a hand on Sam's knee. "And I agree making himself sick is not the right way to go about things. It's just the way he is and I guess we're just going to have to be a bit more sneaky in trying to help him out."

"Sneaky?" Sam laughed. "I can do. I'll use what Dean calls my puppy dog eyes on him. Even though he can't see me, Dean somehow knows when I am using them on him. Caves every time."

"That's settled then. You use the puppy dog eyes and I'll cut back on what I get Dean to do for me. And don't worry he'll never know. It'll be our secret," Jim smiled at his young friend.

"Thanks Jim," Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He felt better now he had spoken to someone else about his worries and he thanked whoever was up there for sending them Jim. He was their saviour and their best friend.

"With Dean it needs a two-pronged attack," Jim said with a wicked grin. "And we are just the men for the job." He studied Sam again. "So what else is worrying you?"

"I hate when you do that," Sam pouted. He looked towards Jim. "I think you have help from up there," he nodded his head heavenwards.

"With you two I need all the help I can get," Jim laughed. "Now tell me what else is worrying you. You'll feel better," he encouraged.

Sam sighed. "I think Dean is remembering the final battle with the demon," he confessed. "And that scares the hell outta me. Even though he hates what Dad did to him at the hospital he still worships the man. It'll kill him if he finds out that Dad didn't even try to help him."

"I see," Jim murmured. Sam had told him the full story early on and he had also heard it from Bobby before the boys had arrived in the town. He understood why his young friend was so scared. "Sam," he said. I know it will be hard but you have to tell Dean everything before he remembers on his own."

"What?" Sam shouted. "I can't."

"You have to," Jim insisted. "If you don't and Dean remembers.... and it seems likely that he will remember and soon..... he may never forgive you. And I know that you both wouldn't be able to live with that. You need each other," he patted Sam's knee again. "What makes you strong is that you face stuff together. And this is no different from anything else. Talk to Dean."

"I suppose," Sam whispered reluctantly. Jim was right as always. He had to talk to Dean and tell him everything but it wasn't something he relished or looked forward to. He gave his friend a small smile before turning his attention back to staring out of the windscreen. Sam wondered idly if Jim had guessed about their new sexual relationship. They had tried to be circumspect with their feelings around Jim but they felt comfortable with their friend and Sam suspected that they hadn't been as careful as they should have been. But if Jim had guessed he had chosen to remain silent on the matter something which Sam was grateful for.

"And make it soon," Jim cautioned. "We're here," he said as he carefully parked on the side of the street. "Go and see if Dean has got that chilli cooking. I'm starving."

"Me too," Sam smiled as he pushed the door open. Shrugging his bag onto his shoulder he ran up their path to the front door.

Jim watched as all six foot four inches of Sam bounced up the path towards the house. He decided to give Sam and Dean a moment alone before he joined them for dinner. Jim had guessed about their new relationship. They had always been close but something about the way they touched each other nowadays had alerted Jim to the change and it was written all over their faces for anyone who was looking to see. They felt comfortable around him and he had seen small glimpses of the love they had for one another and had also noticed that only one bedroom seemed to be used a fact they hadn't hidden from him. He was grateful for the fact that Sam and Dean were discreet in their feelings for one another outside their home and the townsfolk just saw them as two brothers who were extremely close and protective of each other. He had decided to ignore it. Jim knew that it was probably wrong but his hunter side had told his priest side to keep quiet and let them be. Jim loved the boys as though they were his own sons and wouldn't hurt them for anything in the world. He liked having them in his life, felt less lonely and he hoped they felt the same. Jim just hoped that John Winchester, wherever he was, realised what a stupid fool he had been to discard both his sons as though they meant nothing. Jim sighed to himself as he slid out of the truck and made his way towards the house.

 

**Inside the house.......**

 

Sam pushed open the door and dropped his book bag on the floor. He looked up to see a familiar figure standing in their living room his back to him. What was their father doing standing in their house and where was Dean. Sam's deep seated anger at their father boiled over. His father turned towards him. "What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demanded pushing John out of the way. His heart ran cold and he felt sick as his saw his brother on the floor in the throes of what he knew from experience to be a major seizure. "Dean," Sam ran to his brother's side praying that he wouldn't have to use the emergency medication.

Sam could see that Dean was probably in the middle part of a seizure, his legs, upper body and head were thrashing and jerking violently as the convulsion ran its course. His arms were flailing outwards and Sam could see the blood-stained saliva running out of Dean's mouth. Sam knelt down. With practised ease and avoiding the flailing limbs Sam gently but firmly pushed his brother onto his side. He kept one hand lightly on his brother's side watching helplessly as the body he loved and worshipped convulsed locked in uncontrollable frenetic and wild movements.

"He's bleeding," John finally managed to choke out. "And turning blue."

Sam glared up at his father. Every fibre of his body told him to get up and pound his father into the floor until he screamed for mercy, but Dean needed him and for Sam that was more important than beating his father senseless. There would be time for that later. "He probably bit the inside of his mouth or his tongue when he went down," he snapped. "And the blue tinge is normal with this kind of fit." He scowled at his father. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," John lied.

Sam sensed the lie but ignored it instead concentrating on his brother. "How long has he been like this?" he barked. John shrugged not really sure. Time seemed to have stood still as he witnessed his son's convulsion. He had felt powerless and all his medical training and knowledge had deserted him and he could only stand frozen to the spot. He felt a stab of guilt at his inability to help his eldest son. "I need to know," Sam said furiously. He looked up at his father but kept a watchful eye on Dean.

"Couple of minutes. May be three," John answered.

"Are you sure?" Sam snarled. "It's definitely not been longer than five minutes?" It was a question he expected an answer for. "And be sure."

John was surprised at Sam's tone "No. It's only been two or three minutes," he replied. "I'm sure Sam." His younger son gave him another glare but nodded his head before turning his attention back to Dean.

Both men looked up as Jim came into the house. "Sam?" Jim hurried over.

"I thought you were dead," John gaped his mouth dropping open at the sight of an old friend he thought had died months ago.

"Apparently not," Jim ignored John as he moved towards the bathroom. Sam and Dean were his priority at the moment. He returned a minute later with a towel, a trash can and a small red holdall which contained emergency medication for Dean if a seizure lasted longer than five minutes or if he suffered repeated fits one after another. Jim offered the supplies to Sam who smiled a grateful thanks to the Pastor.

"I don't think we'll need the shot," Sam bent over Dean quickly appraising the situation. Dean's body was no longer violently convulsing and the bluish tinge of his skin and lips had all but disappeared. The jerky and thrashing movements had been replaced with small tremors and shuddering as the seizure slowly abated. Sam could see Dean's eyes opening and closing and he could hear a small whimper escape every now and again. Sam reached up and grabbed a cushion placing it gently under Dean's head. He had to get his father out of the house. He didn't want John witnessing anything to do with the possible after-effects of Dean's seizure. What he really wanted to do was punch his father hard in the face but he reluctantly stamped down the urge to beat his father to a pulp. "Get him outta here," Sam nodded his head towards John. "I don't want him here when Dean wakes up."

"He's my son," John protested. "And I need to talk to him. Talk to you both."

"You gave up that right months ago," Sam accused. "And for the record we don't want to talk to you."

"Sam," John protested loudly. "You will listen to me now." He could feel his anger rising again. Images of his naked sons flashed before his eyes and they fuelled his unreasonable anger and behaviour.

"Does it look like Dean can talk at the moment?" Sam snapped angrily. "Open your eyes to your son for a change."

"Don't you speak to me like that," John retorted.

Sam glanced down at Dean again satisfying himself that his brother was recovering and would be alright left for a couple of minutes. He jumped to his feet. Before his father had time to react Sam stepped into his personal space and grabbed the front of his jacket. Using his height and the surprise of the attack Sam shoved John up against the wall leaning all his weight against his father pinning him in place. John didn't struggle just looked at his younger son shocked at what he saw in his eyes - hate, fury and loathing were all reflected in Sam's pale eyes. "We will never listen to you ever again," Sam snarled dangerously. "And I will speak to you how I damn well please."

"Sam," Jim tried to step between father and son but Sam wouldn't release his father. Jim could see that Sam's whole body was vibrating seething in anger and looked ready to explode. Sam shot Jim a sideways look but returned his attention back to his father glaring as he tightened his grip. Jim said the only thing he could think of. "Dean needs you Sam," he put his hand on the younger man's arm. Jim saw a flash of hesitance cross Sam's face at his words. Dean whimpered again. The sound made Sam's mind up. His father could wait. "Dean needs you," Jim repeated pressing home his advantage.

"Get outta our home," Sam snarled up close to his father's face. "And if I find you're in any way responsible for Dean's seizure I will personally beat you to within an inch of your life. Father or not." Sam dropped his grip and shoved his father sideways. John stumbled but managed to remain on his feet staring in shock at his youngest son. Sam turned his attention back to Dean dismissing his father with an angry scowl. He knelt down by Dean again shielding his brother from his father's view. He caressed his hand up and down Dean's face noting for the first time that his brother had a bruise forming on his cheek bone. The urge to smack his father rose up within him again but another small whimper from Dean stopped him following through. Sam clenched and unclenched his fist in an effort to calm down. "And stay away from us," he said without turning around.

Jim noticed the look in Sam's eyes and also that the younger man was desperately trying to calm himself. He decided to help his young friend before he got up from the floor again and this time punched his father and Jim seriously doubted that he would be able to stop Sam next time. "Come on John," he encouraged putting his hand firmly on John's arm. "Sam can handle things here."

John went to say something to Sam but a warning look from Jim prompted him to keep silent. He bit on his tongue wrestling with the urge to force Sam to talk to him. With a loud angry sigh John pulled out of Jim's firm hold and stomped out of the house muttering under his breath. Jim offered up a silent prayer knowing that he had probably averted an all out fight between father and son. "Call me," Jim turned back to Sam. "Are you sure you're gonna be OK?" his voice betrayed his worry. He didn't want to leave the boys alone but knew that it was important that he kept John away from them at the moment.

"Yeah. I can handle it from here," Sam nodded. "We'll be fine. I'll give you a call when I get Dean settled."

"Do you think he ought to go to the hospital?" Jim asked still worried. "It seemed to be close to the five minute mark." He frowned. "I could call Dr Miller for you," he offered.

"No," Sam shook his head looking back to Dean stroking a hand absently through his brother's short hair. "He's coming out of it now. So I'm just gonna let him sleep it off. I can take him to the hospital later if I need to," he reassured. "And I can always give Dr Miller a call if I'm worried."

"OK," Jim replied. "I'll drop by tomorrow to see how he's doing. OK?" he gave Sam a small smile. "Don't worry I'll keep your father away."

"Thanks Jim. I appreciate it," Sam looked up and returned his friend's smile. "Sorry about the chilli."

"I'll take a rain check," Jim gave a small wave and left Sam and Dean alone.

Sam turned back to Dean. The tremors surging through his body had almost stopped. Sam sat on the floor and carefully pulled Dean into a half-sitting position against his chest. Sam grabbed the towel and wiped gently at the blood around Dean's mouth and on his chin. He knew from experience that things weren't quite over yet but was relieved that Dean's body was gradually calming. There was a dark stain around his groin area and Sam knew that when Dean's body had been released from the seizure and started to settle his bladder had also relaxed emptying its contents. It happened sometimes and he knew that Dean would be mortified and embarrassed so the quicker Sam got Dean out of his clothes and into bed the better it would be. Dean's eyes fluttered open and Sam could see that as usual his brother was confused and disorientated and he was sure that the blindness hindered his dazed state. "I'm here," Sam whispered in the most calm voice he could conjure up. "It's OK."

"Sammy," Dean said and Sam could hear the confusion in his voice.

"Yes it's me," Sam stroked Dean's face softly.

"T-ttired," Dean mumbled as his eyes slid closed. "A-and g-got a h-headache."

The appearance of Dean's stuttering was also a usual side effect of a seizure and he pulled his brother closer in comfort. "I know," Sam soothed as he ran his hand gently over his brother's temple. Dean gave a pleased sigh at the caress. Again as usual Dean was exhausted and just wanted to sleep and Sam knew that his brother would probably sleep for the next few hours while his body recovered from the convulsion.

Dean's eyes shot open suddenly and Sam noticed that his brother was extremely pale and sweating profusely. He sensed what was coming but wasn't quick enough as Dean threw up all over himself. Sam only managed to get the trash can under him for his final heaves. After coughing and dry heaving for a few minutes Dean slumped back against Sam closing his eyes. Sam put the trash can to one side and reached for the towel again to clean Dean up as best he could. As he tidied Dean up Sam cursed his father under his breath. He couldn't help himself. He hated his father a little bit more and blamed him for Dean's suffering.

"Th-this t-totally s-ssucks," Dean stammered his voice hoarse. "A-and I p-p-pissed m-myself d-d-didn't I?" Dean was struggling to get himself under control but couldn't keep the defeat and humiliation out of his voice. "S-sorry S-s-sammy."

"Ssshhhh. You have nothing to be sorry about," Sam put the towel to one side as he shifted slightly. Still supporting Dean he carefully got to his feet. "It's OK," his heart nearly broke at the sound of shame in his brother's tone and he could see tears welling up in Dean's eyes. "You couldn't help it. OK?" Dean ignored him letting the tears fall silently. He turned his head away losing himself in his misery and embarrassment. Sam leaned down putting one hand under Dean's knees and the other hand behind his back lifting his brother in one swift movement into his arms.

"Dude I can walk," Dean protested half-heartedly as he finally got his stammer under control. He sniffed swiping a hand across his eyes.

"Shut up and enjoy the ride," Sam said firmly as he tightened his hold of his brother shifting Dean's weight against his own body for balance.

Dean relaxed and his head lolled against Sam's shoulder. "Stubborn jerk," he mumbled in Sam's ear.

"Takes one to know one," Sam whispered back. Dean snorted softly. "Man you have to give up the doughnuts and cookies," Sam teased lightly as he struggled along the hallway to their bedroom. "Your ass is heavy."

"And yours is cute," Dean whispered.

Sam chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation. Once in the bedroom Sam carefully lay his precious bundle on their bed. Immediately Dean rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. "I know you want to go to sleep," Sam said. "And you can in a little while. Just let me get you out of your clothes," Sam rolled a protesting Dean onto his back.

"You always want me outta my clothes," Dean mumbled giving Sam a weak smile.

"But only when you can do something about it," Sam smiled back as he swiftly and expertly stripped his brother naked. Dean tried to help but his attempts were feeble and unco-ordinated and in the end he gave up and let Sam do it for him. Sam threw Dean's soiled clothes and boots on the floor in a pile making a mental to put the clothes in the wash before Dean woke up. He then hurried into the bathroom and fetched a warm wash cloth and a fresh towel. Gently and efficiently he washed and dried Dean down. Dean sighed sleepily as Sam wiped the cloth all over his skin. Sam moved slightly and Dean's arm and hand flailed outwards grabbing for his brother. "Stay," he pleaded.

Sam grabbed his brother's hand and squeezed gently. "Of course I'm staying stupid," he said affectionately. He pulled the comforter up over Dean smoothing it absently over his brother's body. Perching on the edge of the bed Sam ran his hand through Dean's short hair. Sam smiled to himself as Dean leaned into the touch.

Dean's eyes fluttered open again. "I remember," he mumbled looking up towards his brother. Sam could see that Dean was trying to fight off sleep and knew from past experience that he would fail.

"Remember what?" Sam asked confused as he continued to caress his brother's face.

"Everything," Dean murmured as his eyes slid closed and he gave up the battle relaxing into sleep.

Sam's heart ran cold. This is what he had been dreading for months. He shifted on the side of the bed. He continued to caress his hand through Dean's hair in an effort to calm himself as well as Dean. His mind raced a mile a minute and Sam felt sick.

 

**Outside........**

 

Jim shut the door behind him. He sighed to himself as he made his way slowly towards his truck. John Winchester was leaning against the hood staring distractedly into the distance. John turned to him. "So," he shrugged. "You didn't die."

"No," Jim answered simply. "I didn't die."

"You hunting still?" John asked having decided he didn't care why Jim hadn't told him that he was still alive supposing that the Pastor had some reason or another.

"No," Jim replied firmly. "Gave it up when I moved here."

"Who else knows?" John asked curious.

"Bobby," Jim shrugged his shoulders. "It was my choice John. I had hunted for over thirty years.... and I was tired of it. So after my run in with the demon bitch I decided to ..... well die."

John shrugged again. "And Sam and Dean?" he nodded his head towards the house.

"They helped me. Along with Bobby," Jim admitted. "And then when they needed help," he narrowed his eyes at John. "They came here."

John ignored the unspoken accusation. "They should have done as I told them," he snapped. "Sam should have gone back to college and had the normal life he always wanted. And Dean should have gone to the Rehabilitation Centre where he could be looked after. That," he waved his hand in the direction of the house. "In there just proves my point."

"That in there," Jim said calmly. "Was your son having a seizure caused by an injury to his brain that he got when he was trying to help you kill that damn demon of yours."

"They should have still done what I told them," John said stubbornly. "They're my sons and I was only doing what I thought was best for them."

Jim took a deep calming breath irritated at John's uncaring and stubborn attitude. "What was best for them?" he pulled a face at John. "You wanted your sons to be alone and separated from each other? They would have been miserable. Is that what you really wanted for your sons?"

John scowled back at Jim. "It's better than what they're doing now."

"I seriously doubt that," Jim replied with a shake of his head. "Get in," he opened the driver's door.

"I'm waiting right here to see my sons," John replied mulishly. He turned away from Jim folding his arms across his chest. "I need to talk some sense into them both."

"Is that what you were doing with Dean?" Jim asked although he already knew the answer. "Before he had a nasty seizure."

"That's none of your business," John barked ignoring the question.

"I care about Sam and Dean," Jim retorted. "So that makes it my business.

John snorted. "My sons and I have stuff to talk about. Family stuff," he gave Jim a hard stare.

Jim let out another long sigh - perhaps he should have let Sam beat some sense into his father. "Get in John. Come to my place," his tone didn't allow for any arguments. "You heard Sam. They don't want to see you right now. Dean just had a major fit and he definitely won't be up to talking to you for a day or two. Just leave them be for a little while."

John scowled at Jim again but sighed in defeat knowing deep down and hating that the Pastor was right. His sons wouldn't talk to him at the moment. He had seen it in Sam's eyes - the condemnation. And Dean before he had collapsed had told him that he hated him. John opened the door to the truck. "But I'm seeing them soon," he snapped. "Whether they like it or not."

"You're a damn fool John Winchester," Jim accused. "If you keep pushing you'll lose them forever."

John glared at Jim. "I said I'd come to your house... that doesn't mean I'm gonna listen to your preaching." He folded his arms again and stared out of the window ignoring his friend.

Jim shook his head in exasperation as he turned the ignition. The engine roared into life and Jim manoeuvred the truck along the road. He shot John a sideways glance knowing that he wouldn't be able to keep John away from Sam and Dean for too long. He made a mental note to call Bobby as soon as he got home. He needed back up.

 

**Final Battle**

 

**The next day.......**

 

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Sam demanded as he came out of the study to see Dean moving quietly towards the kitchen. Dean had been asleep on the couch for most the morning completely unconscious to the comings and goings having missed Pastor Jim's two earlier visits. But Sam knew his brother well and guessed that as soon as he was awake, Dean would be off the couch and trying to do stuff around the house conveniently forgetting the promise he had made.

"Busted," Dean thought to himself. He shifted nervously from foot to foot knowing from the tone of voice that Sam wasn't happy with him. "To make lunch," Dean answered as innocently as he could manage. He gave Sam a small smile.

Sam silently studied his brother for a moment. He looked exhausted, was still too pale and had dark circles under his eyes. The bruise on his cheekbone was now a black and blue colour and Dean had finger mark bruises on both arms. It made Sam's blood boil with anger but he stamped the feelings down wanting to keep calm for Dean's sake. "Oh no you're not," he grabbed hold of Dean's arm careful to avoid the bruises left by his father's hands. "You're confined to the couch for the next few days," Sam steered his brother back towards the living room.

"But I'm OK now," Dean scowled at his brother.

"Yeah right," Sam rolled his eyes. "You were so OK that you slept through Jim visiting us. Twice. You were out for the count."

"Making lunch won't kill me," Dean insisted.

"I'll make lunch," Sam pushed Dean slightly encouraging his brother back onto the couch. Before Dean could react or protest Sam grabbed his legs and lifted them up onto the couch quickly covering his brother with the discarded blanket "You need to rest."

"But I'm not sleepy," Dean insisted. He cursed under his breath. He hadn't meant to say the words out loud and decided that may be he was more tired than he had admitted.

"Sleepy," Sam snorted. "You are hanging out way too much with the little kids," he teased. "No more birthday parties for you."

Dean gave him his best death glare. "And if you plump those pillows once more," Dean threatened. "I am so gonna take one and smother you with it."

"Dean," Sam said as he defiantly plumped up the pillows behind Dean's back. "We made a deal," he reminded. "You would get up close and personal with the couch for a couple of days.... and I wouldn't take you to the hospital where I am sure I could persuade Dr Miller to have you admitted for a few days."

Dean scowled at Sam. "But...," he started to say.

"And for the record," Sam interrupted putting a finger on Dean's lips to silence his brother. "You look like crap."

"I love you too," Dean snorted.

"Dean," Sam sighed exasperated with his brother stubbornness. "Just do it for me. OK?"

"But what about helping Jim?" Dean persisted with a small pout. "I promised Grace that she could tell me some more stories. And she's got no-one else."

"Jim is telling your adoring fans that you are sick. Grace will understand and so will the others," Sam said firmly as he perched on the edge of the couch. "And I am sure once word gets around we will be inundated with all kinds of cookies and stuff for you."

"But," Dean complained. He knew that Sam was worried about him but even though he was blind Dean didn't do sitting still very well. Dean didn't really remember the seizure but based on Sam's mother-hen act he guessed that it must have been a bad one. He inwardly sighed deciding to let Sam have his way this time.

"No buts," Sam interrupted. "You move from this couch again and I will personally tie you to it."

"Promises. Promises," Dean waggled his eyes seductively not being able to resist baiting his brother.

"Dean," Sam sighed again in exasperation. "The last seizure was a pretty bad one. I thought I was gonna have to use the emergency stuff. And it scared the crap outta me," he stroked Dean's hand. "Please. For me."

Dean knew exactly what expression Sam was using on him and he sighed dramatically even though he had decided to let Sam have his way. "I hate it when you do the puppy dog eyes," Dean grouched but he squeezed Sam's hand in reassurance. "But I'm OK. Really."

"Well I just want to make sure," Sam replied stubbornly. He decided to change the subject. "I'm going to make us some lunch," he got to his feet and started towards the kitchen. "Toasted cheese sandwiches OK with you?"

"Sammy," Dean said. "When are we gonna talk about it?" he asked quietly. It wasn't how he had planned to bring the subject up and he hated the thought of having to talk about his nightmares or his father and the final hunt but in order for them to move on with their lives they had to lay the past to rest forever. And if he was really honest with himself Dean needed to talk to Sam about the nightmares having convinced himself that if he did they would go away forever. Dean was fed up with feeling tired and sick all the time. All his strength seemed to have been drained from him in the last two or three weeks and he desperately wanted to feel strong again.

Sam turned back to his brother. He had known that this was coming but it still shocked him. He had hoped to put it off for a few more days until Dean was less tired. But he should have known better - Sam knew deep down that his brother wouldn't leave it now that he remembered. His heart was thudding in his chest and he hoped that Dean couldn't hear it. He really didn't know what to say and for the first time in his life Sam Winchester was completely lost for words.

The silence in the room screamed at him and not for the first time Dean cursed himself for not being able to see his brother. He guessed that Sam had been trying to put off the conversation and he didn't have to see to know what expression Sam was wearing at the moment - guilt. Dean cocked his head to one side listening carefully for the sounds around him. He blocked out anything unimportant and concentrated on Sam. He could hear Sam shifting nervously from foot to foot and he could also hear that his brother's breathing had sped up. "Say something Sammy," he murmured suddenly uncomfortable with the silence surrounding them both. "You're the one who's into chick flick moments."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I really don't know what to say," he managed to say.

"I wanna talk about it," Dean persisted.

"You do?" Sam couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"No," Dean gave Sam a wry smile. "Not really. But if we don't it will eat us both up and I don't want that. I want it in the past so.... so we can get on with our future."

"Dean," Sam said. "Perhaps we should leave it until you feel stronger."

Dean could hear the fear in his brother's voice and he sighed. "Come here," he patted the edge of the couch. "Come and sit by me." Dean aimed his own version of the puppy dog eyes at his brother. He heard Sam sigh in defeat and smiled to himself.

He tracked Sam's movements as his brother moved towards him and Dean felt the couch shift as Sam sat down. "Dean. I was going to tell you. I just didn't know how. I know how you feel about Dad.... and I just couldn't tell you. And you were hurting so badly after you... you woke up in the hospital. You were so sick and I ..... I didn't know.... Oh Dean I'm .... I'm so sorry," Sam blurted out without taking a breath. "I ... I don't," his jumble of words suddenly dried up.

"Sam," Dean reached out and grabbed his brother's hand sensing that it was flailing about in front of him. "Calm down. I'm not mad at you."

"You're not?" Sam said disbelieving. He pulled his hand away surprised that Dean wanted to touch him.

Dean frowned slightly at the action. "Dude. Of course not," he said. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"I wasn't there for you... like you have been for me all of my life," Sam admitted. "I should have been watching your back. But I wasn't." Sam didn't know what else to say so he chose silence. He knew that Dean couldn't see him but he looked away from his brother any way. The guilt that had been slowly consuming him was now threatening to choke him. He stared at the wall distractedly trying to get himself under control. Sam could feel tears threatening and he bit at his lip. He couldn't bear it if Dean hated him.

He didn't notice Dean lean forward until his brother took hold of his chin and slowly turned his head back to face him. "Sammy," Dean held onto his brother's chin firmly. "Don't look away. I know I can't see you but please don't look away. I want you to look at me. I need you to look at me." Sam slowly nodded his head and fought to keep himself facing Dean. "Nothing was your fault. Dad drugged your ass," Dean stated simply.

"But," Sam stammered.

"Now it's my turn to say..... no buts," Dean said firmly. He dropped his hand from Sam's chin seemingly satisfied that his brother would remain facing him. "You didn't know. Right?" Dean knew the answer to the question before he even asked it. Remembering the final battle had only confirmed what he already knew that Sam would never have willingly left him on his own. His father was another matter and he shook his head slightly to banish the image that had suddenly popped into his mind of his father ignoring his screams for help.

"Of course not Dean," Sam said horrified at the thought. "I was ready to go in but Dad sent me back to the truck to get some more ammo. You know that. But I felt strange..... sorta of floaty... and ... and the next thing I remember was Joshua telling me that you'd been hurt and that the demon was dead." Dean nodded encouragingly. "Dean. I wanted to be there to watch your back. Keep you safe. But Dad took that away from me." Sam bit his lips again willing the tears away. "And I'll never forgive him for that."

"I know," Dean squeezed Sam's hand in reassurance. "It's OK."

"No Dean," Sam said. "It's not OK. I should have known that Dad would pull a stupid stunt like that."

"He was trying to protect you," Dean reasoned as he tried to calm Sam down.

"He should have been protecting you as well," Sam retorted angrily. "Because of him and his damn crusade you were.... were hurt. And I could have stopped it. Protected you. Instead I was all drugged up in la-la land."

"I know," Dean nodded. "But I didn't know he was planning to drug your ass. You know Dad as well as I do and he always kept what he was planning close. Never let on what he was up to," he said. "Sam. I know if you could have been there, you would have been. Right behind me covering my back. Like always. I know that. And I have always known that. OK?"

Sam stared at his brother for a moment watching for a hint of a lie. But he knew it wouldn't be there. Dean's sightless eyes held his gaze pleading with him. Sam believed Dean and he knew, had always known, that his brother didn't blame or hate him for not being there for him. Sam nodded feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from him.

"Give the blind guy a break," Dean gave him a small smile cocking his head to one side. "You just nodded? Right?"

"Sorry," Sam reached out placing one of Dean's hand on the side of his face before nodding over and over.

"Dude. You'll give yourself a headache," Dean teased as he ran his hand down Sam's face softly. "Or it will roll off ......and a headless lover I can so do without."    Sam chuckled and he turned sideways kissing at Dean's fingers.

"Girl," Dean teased again.

Sam took Dean's hand in his own. "What did Dad say to you....," Sam hesitated looking for the right words. He didn't want to hurt Dean or remind him about the seizure again.

"You mean before I freaked out," Dean asked with a small understanding smile.

"Dean," Sam protested.

"It's OK Sammy." Dean screwed up his eyes in thought. He never remembered his seizures and the few minutes or so up to and after the attack were sometimes cloudy and confused. "I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders at the time," he gave Sam a frustrated look. "But I think he knows about us. Said we were disgusting and should go to hell."

"What?" Sam squeaked.

"It wouldn't take a blind man," Dean gave a crooked smile. "To know what we were up to that day on the lake. I think he must have followed us home and done a Peeping Tom on us."

"You're kidding right?" Sam's mouth dropped open in shock. He remembered the afternoon well and Sam couldn't help a small smile escaping at the memory. Their love making had been gentle but passionate and fiery and he could imagine that seeing his naked sons together and obviously enjoying sex would have been a shock for his father but he still couldn't forgive him for all the hurt and pain he had caused them both.

Dean shook his head. "I can't really remember what else he said but it weren't pretty." He instinctively knew what Sam was thinking. He was blaming their father for his seizure. "It wasn't really Dad's fault.... the... the fit," Dean forced out. "I was tired.... I'd already had three fits and you know me," Dean gave Sam his best cocky smile. "I am such a stubborn bastard I won't listen to you when you go all girly and want me to take it easy." He could feel the tension in his brother's body and Dean gave Sam a small smile.

"Don't make excuses for him," Sam said quietly. "He doesn't deserve it."

"You're right. He doesn't," Dean conceded. "But it wasn't just Dad.... my nightmare came back in full technicolour. And my stupid brain decided it wanted to teach me a lesson." Dean looked downwards picking at the blanket over his legs.

Sam hated to ask but he had to know. "What do you remember?" he asked in a shaky voice. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he added quickly.

"No," Dean squeezed at Sam's hand. "I want to.... need to," He felt Sam shift closer and it gave him courage. Dean took a deep breath closing his eyes. His memories swirled about in his head and he took a couple more deep breaths to compose himself. "When we got to the warehouse Dad sent you off to the truck. Now I know why," he squeezed Sam's hand tightly as he felt his brother shift on the couch. "Dad didn't wanna wait until the others got there and told me to watch his back.... and we went in. We were only in there a couple of minutes before all hell broke loose," Dean shivered slightly. "Dad yelled something at me and then disappeared. A-and th-then I ffound --myself s-surrounded b-by th-these k-kids. T-they k-knocked m-me onto th-the g-ground," Dean stammered as the memories bombarded his brain. Dean cursed himself taking more deep breaths battling to get his stutter under control.

"It's OK Dean," Sam re-assured hating to see his strong brother so broken and devastated and he didn't want Dean to make himself sick again. "You don't have to go on."

Dean turned his blind eyes towards Sam. "Y-yes I d-do," he said determined. He tightened his hold of Sam's hand drawing strength from his brother. "I shouted for Dad b-but h-he d-didn't h-hear me. D-didn't c-come t-to h-help m-me." Dean closed his eyes again. "I took a couple of the bastards down but there were too many and I couldn't get away. I tried," Dean finally managed to get the stutter under control. In his mind's eye Dean could see himself screaming for his father as he desperately tried to avoid the kicks and punches of the demon's thugs. He was in agony and alone. He could hear the demon's children chanting and taunting him as he shouted for this father. Dean could see himself screaming again and he flinched as he saw the boot coming towards his head. Then there was only excruciating pain and darkness.

Breathing heavily Dean opened his eyes to the same darkness. His body started to tremble and he choked out a sob before finding himself enveloped in a warm hug. "It's OK Dean," Sam whispered in his ear. "It's over. It's OK. I'm here," he tightened his hold on his brother's trembling body. "We're together. And that's all that matters. Nothing else." Sam felt Dean nod against his chest.

"Do you know the last thing I remember seeing ever?" Dean choked out as he buried himself in Sam's embrace.

"No," Sam replied as he ran a hand through his brother's hair soothingly. He didn't know what else to say but he knew that Dean needed this. Needed to tell him.

"A demon thug's damn boot," Dean sobbed. "It wasn't even your face. And I want to see your face again," he pulled away from Sam putting a hand on his brother's cheek. "I don't just want to touch you. I want to see you Sammy. See your smiles.... your pouts everything. And I can't ...... ever again. And I hate him for it," Dean buried his head his head against the back of the couch. "And I hate this. Hate the darkness. I..... I want it to go away," Dean choked out as he forced himself to look towards his brother again. Sam could see the tears welling up in Dean's sightless eyes. "I'll never get used to it... and... and I just want to be me again." Sam watched as a single tear fell down Dean's face, then another and another.

He couldn't bear it any longer. "Ssshhh," Sam reached out and pulled Dean close to him again. He let his own tears fall unchecked down his face. He would never forgive John Winchester and Sam decided that he owed his father a punch in the face for hurting Dean, for hurting them both and he was determined to make his father pay.

"I hate him," Dean murmured over and over as he let himself be held and rocked by Sam.

 

**Four hours later.......**

 

It had taken them over an hour to calm themselves down. Sam had eventually persuaded Dean to lay down on their bed. Dean had reluctantly agreed but only if Sam joined him. Sam had curled himself around Dean in a spoon's position until his brother had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep. But sleep wouldn't come to him and Sam lay awake listening to Dean's snuffling and low murmurs as his brother slept peacefully for a change. His mind wouldn't rest. John wanted to see them and Jim had volunteered his house as neutral ground. Jim had also left the decision up to Sam and Dean not wanting to push them for which Sam was grateful. When Dean had woken an hour later Sam told him about their father's request and they had held each other tight as they talked over what exactly they were going to say to their father. They had easily agreed that if their father couldn't live with their relationship they could live without him. They liked their life and weren't prepared to give it up. And against his better judgement Sam had agreed to meet with John at Jim's house that afternoon.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Sam asked as they trudged along the back road to Pastor Jim's house. He gave Dean a sideways glance. He could still see the lines of exhaustion on his brother's face and the dark circles around his eyes. The last few weeks had taken a toll on his brother and Sam couldn't help worrying about Dean's health. Dean wasn't frail by any means but even his brother could only take so much and Sam was terrified that another meeting with his father would push him over the edge.

"Yeah," Dean replied. He wanted to put the last few weeks behind him and he was determined to face his father again. They had to do it for both their sakes. They were strong together and Dean knew that no matter what they would always be there for each other and the thought spurred him on. Made him feel confident. "We do it and get it over with. Then we can get on with our lives." Dean was clinging to Sam's arm. He didn't use his stick when he could use Sam's arm and it gave him an good excuse to hold his brother in public. No-one batted an eyelid to a blind man being led by his brother. Dean could feel the warmth of his brother through his jacket. It made him feel grounded, gave him strength. And today he needed the strength and security. They both did.

"We're here," Sam announced. "Last chance?" He knew that Dean was nervous about meeting their father. He was too and he absently patted his jacket pocket feeling the comforting shape of the small emergency medical kit he had packed and stuffed there earlier. Sam was taking no chances in the event of Dean suffering a further seizure.

Dean turned slightly giving a small nod. He had to say it and took a deep breath. "You know I love you right?" he murmured. "I know I don't say it much. Not good at that chick flick stuff you love. But whatever happens. I love you. OK?"

"Yeah I know," Sam frowned at Dean's comments. Then it hit him - his brother thought that his father could change his mind, make him leave and he knew if that happened Dean would just let himself be taken to the Rehabilitation Centre. "You think I'm gonna change my mind and leave you?" Dean gave a small shrug and turned away from his brother. "Dean. Listen to me," Sam turned his brother back so they were facing each other. "I love you. No matter what. And I am never leaving you," he stroked a hand up and down his brother's face. "Not for anything or anyone. Dude you're stuck with me. OK?" he enunciated each word to Dean so there could be no misunderstanding in his brother's mind.

Dean gave him a small smile. "Guess that means you're stuck with me too," he said.

"Damn straight," Sam retorted as he grabbed Dean's arm again. Sam opened the back gate to Jim's property and guided his brother up the path to the back of the house. Jim had obviously been looking out for them. He appeared at the back door a troubled look on his face. "Sam. Dean," he said.

"He's not here is he?" Sam stated as he led Dean up the steps to Jim's house counting each one in turn so his brother didn't trip.

Jim looked down and shook his head. "Sorry boys," he muttered.

"He's on a hunt isn't he?" Dean said. Jim's silence answered his question.

"I don't believe this," Sam threw his hands up in the air. "He asked us to meet him and .... and against our better judgement we came here," Sam said trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "And the bastard doesn't even have the good grace to be here. I give up," Sam said in exasperation.

"I am so sorry," Jim apologised. "I tried to stop him but .... well you know your father better than I do."

"Yeah we do," Dean nodded. "It's not your fault Jim," he reached out to where he knew their friend was standing and patted his arm. "Dad and the hunt.... well nothing is more important to him I guess."

"Come in anyway and have some coffee," Jim encouraged opening the door. "I just made a pot. And I got cookies," he said as he saw Sam shaking his head and knew that the younger man was furious with his father. Jim could almost see his tall frame vibrating with uncontrolled rage.

"But the demon's dead," Sam protested as he started to angrily pace up and down.

"I know Sammy," Dean said as calmly as he could manage. "But hunting is all Dad knows."

The anger that had been festering within him suddenly snapped and he rounded on his brother. "You're making excuses for him again," Sam snapped. "When are you gonna stop doing that? Dude you got hurt because of him. He let them kick and punch you. And he didn't lift a finger to help you," Sam yelled as he stopped in front of Dean. "You have headaches that hurt you so bad you can't stand up. Not to mention the fits. And you're blind ....and it's.... it's all his fault... and you're still apologising for him. Like the good soldier he made you into," he shouted.

Dean flinched at the harsh words clenching and unclenching his fists in an effort to keep calm. He knew that Sam wasn't really angry at him but his brother's words still hurt him. "I'm gonna get some coffee," he murmured reaching out towards where he sensed Jim was standing. "You come in when you've cooled down." Dean turned away from Sam. Dean could feel his body trembling with the effort to keep his temper and grit his teeth hard against the sensations.

Jim took the hint and clasped Dean's arm leading him into the house. Jim could feel the soft tremors in Dean's body and looked over his shoulder at Sam. "Calm down Sam. It's not Dean's fault," he said giving the younger man a hard look.

"He just thinks it is," Dean said as the door shut behind him.

Sam bit at his lip as he started to pace up and down again. He had heard the defeat in Dean's tone and now he was angry with himself for stupidly hurting his brother with his cruel words and hoped that Dean would forgive him for his crappy behaviour. Sam blew out a long sigh - he sucked big time and he was going to owe Dean a huge apology. But for now Sam just wanted to pace up and down thinking murderous thoughts about his father.

Ten minutes later Sam felt composed enough to go in search of Dean and a cup of coffee. He found Jim and Dean sitting at the kitchen table mugs of coffee in their hands and a plate of cookies on the table.

"Have you calmed down?" Jim asked with a small smile. "Or do I need to throw a bucket of cold water over you?"

Sam gave a small chuckle. "No I'm calm Jim," he assured as he slid along the bench seat to sit next to his brother.

"One coffee coming up then," Jim got up and moved towards the kitchen counter. He turned back pushing a mug towards Sam with a smile. "And I also think we all need something a little stronger in our coffee today," he moved towards the door. "Back in a minute."

Sam knew that Jim was leaving them alone on purpose and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity. He nudged Dean's shoulder gently. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Being an asshole again."

"Must be spending too much time with me," Dean replied softly as he nudged Sam back.

"I didn't mean any of it," Sam said grabbing hold of Dean's hand and squeezing. "Nothing is your fault. It's just .... just that Dad makes me so mad and then I let my mouth run away with me. And hurt the one person in the world that I love more than anything."

"It's OK Sammy," Dean squeezed Sam's hand back. "I know you didn't mean it. I know you were mad at Dad and not me," he stole a quick kiss. Sam knew that he had been forgiven but he still had to make it up to Dean. Sam leaned closer to Dean and whispered in his ear. Then for good measure he swiped his tongue up Dean's neck and blew in his ear.

Dean shivered as he pulled away. "Sam," Dean said in mock horror at the suggestion Sam had just whispered in his ear. It was purely sexual and erotic and he couldn't wait to get home. "We're in a Pastor's house."

Sam gave a small giggle and laid his hand lightly on Dean's thigh. Jim chose that moment to re-appear. "The good stuff," he put a bottle down on the table.

"I could do with a glass of that," a familiar voice said. John Winchester stood in the door. He dropped his heavy weapons bag off his shoulder onto the floor. It clunked as it hit the floor. Grabbing a mug from the counter he poured himself a generous amount from the bottle and took a swig. "Good stuff," John nodded at Jim.

"So you decided to come and see us," Sam couldn't help snapping. "Or did the hunt just finish earlier than planned?"

"Sammy," Dean warned placing his hand over the one Sam had on his thigh.

John noticed the movement and gave a nasty scowl. "That is so disgusting," he said. Dean kept his hand on Sam's hand in defiance. He squeezed Sam's hand trying to will his brother to keep calm but he knew deep down that this time he would fail.

"Don't you dare," Sam threatened as he glared at his father. "I will touch Dean how I damn well please."

"Same here," Dean said challengingly.

John shrugged and took another swig of his drink. "And you," he nodded towards Jim. "Sit there and condone this.... this sinful behaviour. You're a priest for God's sake. It's wicked and immoral. They're brothers."

Jim shook his head. He didn't know John Winchester any more. He had changed so much from the man he had met over twenty years ago. "Sam and Dean are grown men," he said firmly as he gave the brothers a smile. He looked back up at John. "And since when did you become so holy?"

"They're my sons," John interrupted. "I have every right."

Jim shook his head again. "Then act like you're their father and try to understand," Jim retorted. "For once in your miserable life be their father and not their General. Barking orders at them isn't going to help this time."

"So I'm just supposed to ignore it," John said as he slammed the mug down on the counter. The adrenaline of the hunt he had just finished hadn't worn off and was still surging through his body. He was angry. Angry at the whole world. The anger and fury flowed through his body like the blood in his veins. It made him strong. It made him a formidable hunter. John Winchester didn't know anything else. Had nothing else. Had no-one to love and he was insanely jealous that his sons had found the love that he had lost so long ago.

"They're not hurting anyone," Jim reasoned. "And if they need each other. That's fine with me. And I choose to leave them be. Not judge them."

John snorted derisively. He walked around the table glaring at each man in turn. "I watched them do each other," he pulled a face as the image of his sons naked and making love popped into his head. "It would seem that Sammy gets off on doing his brother," he patted his younger son on the shoulder. "Likes to shove his cock up Dean's ass," he accused nastily. Sam shrugged the hand off his shoulder remaining silent at the accusation. He was desperately trying to keep his temper under control but he could feel the anger boiling inside him threatening to overwhelm him with its intensity.

"John," Jim shouted getting to his feet. The look of Sam and Dean's faces was enough to make him want to punch his old friend. "That's enough."

John pulled a face at Jim and ignored him. "And Dean just takes it," John moved to his older son touching Dean on the arm. Dean flinched at the touch. "I saw you riding Sammy's cock. Do you like being taken by your brother?" John taunted close to his eldest son's ear. Dean grit his teeth against the words determined not to rise to his father's baiting. He didn't want to give John Winchester the satisfaction of reacting.

"That's it," Sam exploded as he lost control of his already frayed temper. He and his father could never be in the same room for longer than ten minutes without arguing but today Sam felt justified in his anger.

"Sammy," Dean protested as he tried to keep a grip of Sam's hand. But Sam was furious long past placating words. He snatched his hand out of his brother's tight and desperate grip. Leaping to his feet Sam grabbed John by the front of his jacket and propelled him towards the wall.

John laughed as his head cracked on the wall. "Think you can take me?" he gave a confident grin his self-assuredness coming from the adrenaline still running through his body.

"Yeah," Sam snarled as he leaned in close to his father.

"Sam," Dean yelled as he got to his feet. He turned towards his father and brother. "Please."

"No," Sam replied over his shoulder. "He's had this coming for a long time. And he is never gonna hurt us ever again," he turned back to his father. Sam narrowed his eyes. He didn't recognise the man standing in front of him. His father had changed so much. John Winchester had never been a warm fuzzy kind of guy but now the man standing before him was just a cold and unemotional shadow and Sam knew that the hunt and his obsessive quest for vengeance was responsible. The hunt had bled his father dry completely destroying the man he had once been.

"You think you're man enough?" John continued to taunt.

"That's enough both of you," Jim put his hand on Sam's arm.

"This is between me and my son," John snapped as he shoved Jim hard. The older man stumbled as he lost his balance falling backwards. He yelped as his head hit the side of the table. Jim hit the floor with a thump.

"Jim," Dean cried out his frustration at not being able to see was infuriating and even his keen sense of hearing wasn't able to keep up with who was where and what was happening. Dean was torn and didn't know what to do. He wanted to help Sam and he wanted to help Jim. He made a quick decision and focussed his senses on their friend. Dean knew that Sam could hold his own so he put his hands out in front of him and moved cautiously across the room in search of Jim. His foot hit Jim's leg and Dean stumbled slightly. Kneeling down Dean felt for Jim's face and patted his fingers across the skin. "You OK?" he asked concern lacing his voice.

"Mmmmm," Jim mumbled as he blinked trying to focus on Dean. "You? Sam?" he managed to get out.

"We're OK," Dean answered. "Although Sammy's a little busy at the moment."

Behind him Dean could hear Sam and his father circling each other. "Be back in a minute," Dean patted Jim's arm as he got to his feet.

Sam had watched in horror as his father had pushed Jim down. Their friend didn't deserve that. The action fuelled his rage making him strong. He shoved his father across the room. "Leave Jim out of it," he shouted.

John laughed as he moved forwards. Sam moved backwards slightly. He struck out first hitting John a glancing blow. John smirked at him as he grabbed Sam by the arm twisting slightly and painfully. Sam yelped but he used all his strength to push his father backwards ignoring the pain up his arm. Surprised at the tactic John let go of Sam's arm. Sam capitalised on his advantage and moved quickly pushing his father backwards as he moved forwards. The swing-door opened as they barrelled through it locked in combat. Sam's foot connected with John's shin who let out a yelp before back-handing his son across the face.

"Did you even look for us?" Sam yelled as he balled his fist and slammed it hard into John's stomach determined to pummel his father into the ground. Sam licked at his bloody lip.

John huffed in pain. "You didn't want me to," he replied. "And now I know why." He brought his fist up and hit Sam square in the face.

Sam grunted in pain. Staggering backwards Sam ducked John's second blow. "We love each other," he yelled at his father. Recovering Sam threw himself at John catching him a glancing blow to the chin.

"It's wrong and disgusting," John stumbled and fell to his knees. "You're a smart boy Sam. You should go back to college. And Dean.... well he's brain damaged. Blind. Holding you back."

"Nooooooooo," Sam moved forwards quickly wanting to hurt his father for his cruel and hateful words. Sam went to kick John in the stomach. John expected the attack and grabbed for Sam's leg. Catching the leg aimed at his belly John twisted his hands slightly. Sam collapsed to the wooden decking in a heap. John grabbed for Sam and they rolled both trying desperately to hit one another. They got in the odd punch to each other's side, face and stomach. Still locked together and fighting for dominance they pitched towards the top of the steps. They both grunted in pain as they bounced down each one of the wooden steps. They lay in a heap at the bottom of the steps for a moment both panting hard.

Sam was the first man on his feet bouncing from foot to foot. He took a deep breath as he stretched his body moving his head from side to side to iron out the kinks in his neck and body. John was on his feet a second later. They circled each other again fists up and balled ready to strike. They were both bloody and bruised from each other's punches but they both ignored the blood dripping down their faces concentrating on the other waiting for the first move.

John took the initiative and charged forwards. He hit Sam hard in the stomach and his son dropped to his knees hugging his belly. John cackled a triumphant laugh stepping backwards. He could almost smell his victory and ignored the stab of guilt for hurting his son that he felt deep down within him.

The laugh spurred Sam on and with a groan he dragged himself to his feet. He swayed slightly before drawing himself up to his full height. John went to hit Sam again. Sam dodged out of his way and jabbed a surprised looking John hard in the middle of his face. With a howl of pain John put his hand up to his nose wiping at the blood. Growling John advanced on Sam. Sam was ready for him and hit his father hard again in the face. John stumbled backwards and fell to the ground.

Sam leapt on top of John and evenly matched they wrestled on the ground turning over and over jabbing each other with small punches and the odd kick. They were both breathing hard with the exertion ignoring the cold seeping through their clothes as they rolled on the snowy ground. This fight wasn't just about the present it was also about their past arguments and disagreements and they both recognised it neither wanting to give the other an inch or the satisfaction of victory. The viciousness of their punches and kicks was borne out of deep seated anger, resentment and hurt.

John pushed at Sam and scrabbled to his feet. As Sam staggered to his feet John launched himself at his son smacking him in the eye. Sam stumbled again but managed to get his own punch in, his fist connecting with his father's jaw. John recovered and aimed another punch at Sam glancing off his shoulder. Sam yelped in pain. John took advantage of Sam's pain and grabbed his arm again twisting it ruthlessly. Pain lanced through Sam's shoulder and tears of pain sprang to his eyes. Sam reeled back nearly losing his balance as he shoved John away from him managing to dodge to the left as John took another swing at him. Taking a deep breath Sam kicked out sideways with his right foot connecting with his father's leg. John squealed in pain but managed to keep his balance. He balled his fist again and punched Sam hard. Sam lurched slightly and wiped his hands over his bloody face and then down his jeans leaving a red stain. He took a deep breath and straightened up to face his father again.

"Had enough Sammy?" John mocked as he drew his fist back. Sam bristled at the use of his childhood nickname only allowing Dean to use it. He shook his head and moved quickly catching his father off guard. Sam shoved his father hard. John lost his balance this time and dropped to the floor in a tangle of legs. He glared up at Sam. They both froze as the sound of a gunshot rang out over their heads. Sam and John turned to see Dean expertly reloading the shotgun. "If you touch him again I'll blow your head off," Dean racked the shotgun and aimed it in John's general direction. He knew that Sam was near his father and he needed his brother to speak so he could work out where exactly he was standing.

"Dean," Jim hurried down the steps of his house. After he had come to properly, he had looked for Dean who had mysteriously disappeared. When he found his shotgun missing from its secret hideaway he had panicked and rushed out of his house to find Dean aiming a shotgun at his father. "This isn't the way," Jim stepped up close to his friend.

"He took my life away," Dean murmured turning towards his friend. "And he's trying to take Sammy away." Dean turned back towards his father tightening his grip on the shotgun.

"Dean," Sam said quietly. Jim went to move closer to Dean. Sam shook his head slightly motioning for Jim to step back. His friend understood and moved away. "I'm not going anywhere. I promised I wouldn't and I meant it. It's you and me. OK?"

Dean looked in Sam's direction. "Are you OK?" Dean asked cursing himself for his blindness. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Sam lied. "Just a bit bloody. Nothing I haven't had before."

"Put the damn gun down," John dragged himself to his feet suddenly impatient with both his sons. He brushed at his jeans and jacket and wiped his hand across his bloody face. "And stop acting like a stupid asshole Dean."

Sam swung around glaring at his father. "Are you looking to get your head blown off?" he snapped. "Or have you just got a death wish?"

"He's blind," John shrugged dismissively. He didn't notice that Dean had cocked his head to one side listening closely to the sounds and movements around him. Dean sensed exactly where Sam and Jim were standing as well as his father. He re-aimed the shotgun knowing and confident that he wouldn't hit his brother or Jim by mistake.

"And now he knows exactly where you're standing," Sam explained as he nodded at Jim. Jim got the meaning of the nod immediately and fixed himself to the spot not moving a muscle and remained silent. "And I guarantee he won't hit Jim or me." He had seen his brother in action a thousand times before and Sam knew how Dean worked out where people or things were and it still amazed him how accurate his brother was. It was almost like a type of echo-location.

"I-I m-may b-be b-brain d-damaged t-to y-you," Dean waved the shotgun directly at John. "B-but I-I w-won't m-miss." Dean bit at his lips in an effort to stop his hated stuttering as well as the tears that threatened.

"For God's sake," John said exasperated.

For some reason John couldn't see the danger he was in and was ignoring the obvious as usual. But Sam could see the danger. He could see that Dean was on the edge and was terrified that his brother would shoot his father. Sam shot his father another angry look. "Just shut up and stand still," he yelled. "If you move from that spot I'll blow your damn head off myself." John went to reply but something dangerous in his younger son's eyes stopped him. He shut his mouth and stared at the ground avoiding Sam's glare.

Satisfied that his father would keep silent Sam took a cautious step towards his brother. "Dean," he murmured. "Let me have the gun. Jim's right. This isn't the way."

"H-he t-took m-my l-life a-away," Dean choked out. Sam watched his brother's finger tighten on the shotgun's trigger. "H-he l-let th-them h-hurt m-me. D-didn't h-help m-me. W-why d-didn't h-he h-help me?"

"I don't know," Sam said quietly and honestly although deep down they both knew the answer to the question. They weren't as important to their father as killing the demon had been. "But he should've helped you," Sam said as calmly as he could. His heart was thumping in his chest and Sam could feel the sweat running down his neck despite the coldness of the air. "Like you always helped him. Backed him up. And he should have let me back you up." He turned and scowled at his father again. "He should have protected us both."

"I-I h-hate h-him," Dean's voice wavered.

"I know," Sam soothed. Dean's blind eyes were so full of vulnerability, pain and hurt that Sam wanted to turn back and beat his father until he begged for mercy. But at the moment Sam's priority was Dean. Sam ignored the blood running down his face and the aches in his body knowing that he would be counting bruises the next day. Dean was important and he knew that his brother wouldn't survive if he shot his father. And despite his own feelings about his father Sam was determined that Dean wouldn't suffer any more at the hands of his father. "But we've got a new life. A better one. Together. Right?" Sam moved step by step closer and closer to his brother.

Dean glanced in Sam's direction giving his brother a small nod. "He'll never leave us alone," he managed to say relieved at having finally gotten the stammer under control. He bit at his lip again fighting off the tears that were threatening to fall down his face.

"Yes he will," Sam said firmly. "He'll never come back here. I promise." Dean frowned slightly. His head hurt and he felt hurt and confused. He wanted their life so much, loved Sam so much. But his father was trying to separate them again and he wouldn't be able to bear being without his brother. Dean focussed on Sam's voice trying to draw strength from it. "And you'll never forgive yourself if you shoot him," Sam said quietly as he edged cautiously within a few feet of Dean. Out of the corner of his eyes Sam could see Jim holding his breath. He could also see that the Pastor had his eyes trained on where John was standing poised ready for action if his father tried anything stupid. Jim gave Sam a small nod. Sam looked ahead again concentrating on Dean shutting out the rest of the world for a moment.

"It'll make me feel better," Dean said although the tone of his voice belied his conviction. He had a hunter's soul and he was strong. Dean desperately wanted to feel whole again but knew that would never be possible. He was stuck with being blind for the rest of his life. He was tired and too wrung out emotionally for his liking. It confused him and Dean frowned to himself - Sam made him feel complete and loved him for who he was not caring about his blindness or the seizures. And Dean loved their new life in the little town. Loved helping Pastor Jim. They had even made a few friends. Perhaps Sam was right. Dean loosened the grip on the shotgun slightly.

Sam could see the emotions flashing through his brother's sightless eyes. Could see the hesitation in his brother's body language. "Dean," he whispered. "Please."

Dean heard the pleading in his brother's tone and made a decision. It was time to get his life back on track and put the past behind him forever. And Dean knew that as much as he hated his father shooting him wasn't the answer. Dean took a deep breath and released his finger from the trigger. He dropped the shotgun to his side and stared ahead to where he knew his father was standing. "I will never forgive you," Dean whispered as he let a single tear fall down his face.

John stared back at his eldest son. The blind eyes stared back at him unflinching and unseeing but within the depths of the greenness John thought he could see hate as well as a hint of sadness and regret. Guilt gripped him threatening to choke the life out of him. The realisation hit him like a bolt of lightning - he had finally lost his sons through his own stupidity and prejudice. The anger that made him strong, made him who he was, drained out of him and John suddenly felt hollow and empty inside. Pastor Jim had been right he should have let them be and let them live their life together. John watched as Dean turned his gaze away from him. It was as though his elder son knew exactly what he was thinking.

Sam acted instinctively as Dean dropped the gun down to his side. Dean looked far too pale and exhausted for his liking and he was swaying on his feet. Sam reached forwards and grabbed the weapon from Dean's now lax grip. He heard Jim breathe a sigh of relief as he made the shotgun safe. Sam handed the gun backwards to the Pastor as he pulled Dean into his arms. Jim hurried into the house to put the gun out of harm's way.

"It's OK Dean," Sam whispered in his brother's ear. "Let's go inside," he suggested as he pulled back from his brother. Sam swore that although his brother looked shocked he could see a spark of the old Dean's determination and strength in the depths of the blind eyes staring at him. "I could do with that drink right about now." Dean nodded slightly and offered Sam his arm.

Dean sighed inwardly. He could tell from Sam's voice that his brother would probably mother-hen him to death for a couple of days. "And we've got to get you cleaned up," Dean said guessing that his brother probably looked a bit worse for wear. He put as much energy as he could into his voice in an effort to let his brother know that he was OK and could mother-hen too.

"Boys," John said as he moved towards his sons.

Sam let go of Dean for a moment. He swung around before Dean could stop him or say anything. Sam took John completely by surprise and punched his father hard in the face bloodying his nose again. John gasped in pain as Sam hit him a second time this time sending him flying across the snow covered grass. John landed in an undignified heap near the gate to Jim's property.

"You done?" Dean asked as he cocked his head to one side.

"I'm done," Sam said. "And don't ever come back," he said over his shoulder to his father. "You're not wanted here."

Jim came back down the steps handing Dean John's weapons bag. Dean turned and threw the bag in John's direction. It landed near John's feet. "Go find something to hunt," he said bitterly as he grabbed for Sam's arm again. Sam and Dean turned away from their father and slowly walked up the steps into the house with Jim following behind. None of the men looked back.

"Looks like I missed all the fun," Bobby said as he burst through the gate. He looked down at the bloodied and bruised John. He read the defeat in John's eyes and guessed what might have happened. John Winchester had finally driven his sons away with his pig-headed and unyielding attitude. Bobby shook his head in disgust. "John Winchester. You're a damn fool," he sighed as he stepped over the fallen man and his bag heading towards Jim's house and the coffee he knew would be waiting.

 

**Epilogue**

 

"Hey," Bobby called to Sam. He was sitting on a bench two of his dogs laying at his feet. He was relaxing in the winter sunshine after having taken the dogs for a long run. Since his arrival in the town Bobby had been helping both Jim and Sam.

"Hey Bobby," Sam joined his friend slumping down on the bench. The dogs jumped up at the newcomer. Inquisitive they sniffed at the bag he was carrying hopefully. Sam batted their noses away as he petted each of them in turn.

"What you got there?" Bobby asked with a smile waving a hand at the bag Sam had balanced on his lap.

"Dean and Jim sent me out for supplies," Sam answered with a smile. "I got beer, some steak, potatoes, some salad stuff and," he dug in the bag and held up a large bag of M&Ms. "Dean's favourite."

Bobby chuckled. "A peace offering?" he asked smirking at the younger man.

"Sam nodded. "Yeah kinda."

"So Dean is still sore at you," Bobby chuckled again as he scratched behind the ears of one of his dogs. The dog whined in pleasure pushing up into the touch.

Sam pulled a face. "It was his damn idea that I went to get checked over at the hospital. I didn't want to go," he protested. "And it was hardly my fault that the ER doctor took one look at him and wanted to admit him and not me," Sam couldn't help a small chuckle escaping. " And Dean didn't help matters by having a massive seizure in the waiting room after telling the doctor that he was fine and to get lost." He turned to Bobby. "And he wasn't polite about it either. And the doctor understood the Latin curses he used."

Bobby suppressed another smirk well aware of what Dean in rant and stubborn mode was like. "So how is he?" he asked. "He always says fine when I ask him. Stubborn ass."

Sam screwed up his face in thought for a moment thinking back over the last two weeks. Dean had spent the first two days of his stay in the hospital in the ICU under close observation due to the fact that he had suffered repeated seizures one after the other which the doctors had trouble controlling at first. But on the third day he had improved enough to be moved to a room of his own. Despite his loud protests and the fact that he had been moved from the ICU Dean had still been hooked up to a vast array of monitoring machines and IV/medication drips. He had been confined to bed and had been forced to rest. He had only been allowed out of bed on his sixth day in the hospital and that had only been a short walk up the hallway clinging onto his IV pole with one hand and Sam with the other.

His own doctor, Dr Miller, had run another barrage of tests as a precaution. Finally Dr Miller had assured them both that Dean's recent fits were probably due to stress and exhaustion and not a worsening of his original brain injury, a fact that made them both sigh in relief. Dean's medication had been increased and he had finally been discharged three days ago. Dean was no longer plagued by nightmares, his strength was slowly returning and cocky and confident Dean was making a welcome re-appearance. Sam turned to Bobby and smiled. "Actually he is fine. He's doing OK," he said.

"Good," Bobby nodded. He took a deep breath knowing that his next words might hurt his friend. "Your daddy's a damn fool," Bobby said as he stretched his legs out in front of him. "And I told him so. But I think he already knew."

"May be," Sam bit at his lip. "I just hope he's happy with his choice." Even though he hated John Winchester at the moment Sam couldn't help feeling a little bit sorry for his father but at the same time he didn't think that he would ever forgive him for all the hurt he had caused them both.

Bobby nodded. "I'll keep my ear to the ground. Make sure the damn fool doesn't go and do something stupid."

"Thanks," Sam turned to his friend. "I appreciate it. But let's not mention it to Dean. He not ready to hear about Dad just yet. Give him time. OK?"

"No problem my friend," Bobby said.

"You staying around?" Sam asked deciding to change the subject.

"Yeah for a while," Bobby smiled. "I kinda missed the old man. But don't tell Jim I told you. But he's a lousy cook. I'll probably starve to death."

Sam laughed. "I won't. And you can always come to our house. Dean is great in the kitchen." He nodded towards Bobby's dogs. "They're nice looking animals."

"Glad you think so," Bobby pointed towards the large German shepherd with gentle brown eyes and floppy ears. "Because this little boy is yours.... well yours and Dean's." He stroked the dog affectionately.

"We couldn't," Sam refused knowing how Bobby felt about this dogs. The animals were bred specifically for hunting and Bobby's reputation amongst the hunting community was second to none. His dogs were fierce, fearless and loyal to their masters. "We won't be hunting again. And it wouldn't be fair."

Bobby shrugged. "His momma is my best bitch. Big old softie. Just like a momma should be. And his daddy is one of my best hunters. Trust him with my life. But this lad," Bobby petted the dog again. "Just doesn't have it in him. Doubt if he'll ever be a hunter's dog. But I know that he'll protect you both with his life. You love him. And he'll love you right on back."

"I don't know," Sam said as he got to his feet.

"Named him for you too," Bobby persuaded. "I thought Kansas was a good name for him. You think about it. Take your time. I'll be here for a while."

"You coming to dinner?" Sam asked. "Don't worry I'm cooking," he smiled at his friend's hesitation. "Jim is banned from our kitchen."

"In that case I'm coming," Bobby got to his feet and joined Sam. They started to walk down the street. Bobby whistled and the two dogs came bounding after the two men dancing and cavorting around them as they walked.

Once back at their house Sam and Bobby found Jim and Dean in the living room listening to music and talking about the summer carnival the church organised every year. Bobby slumped down in one of the easy chairs his dog at his feet and joined in the conversation immediately volunteering to take a look at the church's ancient truck. Sam left them with some beer and went through to the kitchen to unpack his groceries.

Once inside the house Kansas had immediately abandoned Bobby and Sam and was now laying on the couch next to Dean with his head across his brother's lap. Dean was absently scratching behind the dog's ears as he listened to Jim and Bobby argue about the virtues of different trucks. Sam smiled to himself deciding there and then that they were keeping the dog.

Somehow Dean sensed that Sam was looking at him. He turned from his position in the middle of the couch and patted the cushion on the other side of him. Sam grabbed a beer and sat down next to Dean. He gave Dean's hand a quick squeeze. Dean smiled at him. A genuine happy smile which Sam readily returned.

They had good friends.... and now a dog who was taking up a third of their couch. They were home. They were together. They loved each other. And they were happy. Life was good.

 

**The End.... although real love stories never have endings**


End file.
